Noir Et Blanc
by Tsurai Shi
Summary: There is no black or white; not even shades of gray. There are only differences in opinion. HPTR, VampireHarry, Time Travel, Dark themes.
1. Breaking the Mold

There is no black or white, or even shades of gray. There is only difference in opinion. Vampire!Harry, Timetravel, Dark themes, SLASH.

_Tearing joy, hopeless hate._

_Words abound, boundless fate._

_Reach the edge, do not toil._

_We cannot see within this coil._

_Straight and fast,_

_Like the arrow._

_Mind kept broad,_

_But eyes narrowed._

_Do not stray, it takes too long_

_Before you know it_

_We will all be gone._

¤

**D**eep in the bowels of his fortress, the infamous Dark Lord was contemplating. His mind wasn't on the war he was leading, nor of his enemies, including the dark-haired Potter brat.

Instead, his mind was pondering over a small object in his hand. Lucius had just recently found it in his old Dark Arts artifacts left over form the first war, it had been in the same box that Voldemort's precious diary was placed in.

It was nothing but a small, simple ring of slightly tarnished silver, set with one pale moonstone, so tiny it seemed only a bump in the metalwork. Lucius had proudly presented it to him, along with several other items, but it had been the ring that held his rapture.

There was absolutely nothing magical about it, just a ring. No one but Lord Voldemort knew how treasured it truly was…

_Such a deeply buried memory…loss…so much pain, it felt as if life was at an end…_

In a sudden rage, Voldemort threw the ring forcefully across the room. It shattered a vase before clattering to a stop on the dungeon floor. He turned away, annoyed at indulging in such reminiscences.

He knew he'd be picking it up in a few minutes, anyway.

¤

**H**arry Potter paced restlessly about his room at nearly one o'clock in the morning. His hand clenched about a letter, delivered to him an hour ago by Fawkes. It was short and simple, and it made Harry's blood boil with barely suppressed anger.

_My Dear Boy, _

_I can't tell you how sorry I am to say that after the events at the Ministry last year, it is no longer safe for you to leave the house. Voldemort can now attack you without fear of being discovered, and I am afraid that it is simply too dangerous to visit your friends or to transport you to Headquarters. Mrs. Weasley will fetch your supplies from Diagon Alley. A contingent of Aurors will be sent on Sept. 1st to take you to the train._

_I will stress that you must not leave the house. The blood wards will only protect you as long as you reside near your dear Aunt. Also, if you receive any letters that are marked from Gringotts, burn them right away! They are cursed letters sent by Death Eaters, and can cause you great harm._

_The Order looks forward to seeing you at school. Be cautious, and DO NOT LEAVE THE HOUSE. _

_Sincerely,_

_Albus Dumbledore_

Harry finally stopped, trembling. There were so many thing wrong with the letter, Harry couldn't count them.

All summer he'd been getting letters from his friends, but they were all terse, with no information about the Order or how their lives were going, not even so much as a 'how are you?'Now he would get no chance for explanations.

He would have to stay in this blasted, accursed house the entire summer, with relatives that hated, overworked, and starved him as much as they dared after Moody's threat.

_No leaving the house_. No sunlight, no rain. No tiny amount of peace that even a small breath of fresh air could give him. Harry nearly sobbed in frustration. He choked it back though, his mind examining the rest of the letter.

Harry glanced over at another letter with several pages of parchment that lay upon his desk. It was already open, and bore the Gringotts Seal on the outside edge. He knew of it's contents already, having finished it moments before the other letter was delivered.

_Dear Mister Potter,_

_You have been requested to attend the reading for the will of one Sirius Orion Black on the 20th of July. We of Gringotts staff have just been informed of his death, and he expressed the wish that it should be read as soon as possible. We send our deepest condolences for your loss. _

_Also, expressed in the will is the wish that, should he die, you be emancipated and declared of legal age immediately. Contained in this letter are the documents that will allow you to do so. Simply sign your name and the papers will be transported straight into Ministry and Gringotts files. If you have any questions please address any letters to me, and I will see them attended._

_Much Sorrow and Regret,_

_Ragbloc, Manager of Gringotts Bank, Branch of Britain_

Harry seethed. Dumbledore had known about Sirius' will and his emancipation, and was trying to keep it from him! That old codger!

Harry suddenly yelped as the paper he was holding caught on fire and he dropped it. 'Dammit! Vernon might smell it!' He quickly stamped it out, cursing his unintentional wandless magic. He'd found out a while ago that the Ministry couldn't sense wandless spells if they were small, and Dobby had only purposely made his levitation detectable.

Harry sighed and looked at the emancipation forms. If he signed them, he'd be going against Dumbledore's wishes. 'But how long has it been since I cared? And in addition I'll be a legal adult, so he won't be able to control me!'

He grabbed a spare quill from the desk and after reading them carefully, signed in his best handwriting. He was about to turn and give them to Hedwig when the parchments were suddenly enveloped in a soft white glow, then completely disappeared.

"Well, I guess that solves that…" he said to empty air. Harry sat on his bed quickly as he was struck by a sudden realization. "I'm an adult now. I can make my own decisions…" he whispered, wide-eyed.

'But what do I want to do?' he asked himself, 'What path do I want to take?' He already knew he didn't trust Dumbledore. The man had kept too many things from him for his 'protection', tried to smother him in cotton wool while at the same time sending Harry out to fight his battles.

Harry groaned. He even had the sneaking suspicion that the old man had been pilfering from his vault to supplement the Order funds, despite the amount of money he undoubtedly had from his Pureblood lineage and his research grants with Flamel.

Voldemort, his mind paused. The man fought to exterminate Muggles and Muggle-borns, while at the same time ignoring the possible consequences that would follow if he won. Harry could see it clearly, in his mind. Eventually, lines dwindling so that cousins married cousins, then siblings married siblings, followed by horrendous mutations and power overload as the magic within the children's blood grew to be too much.

'I cannot let that happen either.' he decided. 'Maybe…I could call on an old friend…Yes, that's it. I've made my decision!' He snatched a piece of parchment from his trunk (glad the Dursley's had at least allowed him his things) and wrote a few simple lines:

_Noir, _

_I have decided. I accept your offer. _

_Aspen_

Harry finished it with the nickname the other had given him, and smiled. He turned to his trusty owl with a sealed letter. He tied it to her leg, giving her a pat on the head. "Here, girl. Will you take this to Noir for me? You always know where he is." Harry crooned. Hedwig hooted an affirmative, nipping him affectionately before swooping out his open window.

He turned to his bed. 'Maybe I can finally get some rest.' He was asleep almost before his head hit the pillow, and his night was filled with dreams of silver rings that somehow managed to slip through carefully concealed Occlumency barriers.

¤

_**T**he abnormally tall man stared at the wand pointed directly in his face. He blinked and looked at it's holder. _

"_How do I know you're not just here to take me to Voldemort?" the holder questioned, resolutely staring him in the eyes. The man was impressed by the other once again. Few could stand to look into his eyes. _

"_Come now," he said lazily. "If I had wanted to harm you I would have done it when I first met you five years ago. Or the many chances I've had afterwards." He watched as the other weighed him in his mind, and ever so slowly the wand was dropped to his side. _

"_You're right." _

_Emerald green eyes lowered, and he could see them getting suspiciously shiny._

"_I heard about what happened." he said quietly. _

"_Of course you did…the entire wizarding world did." said the other. _

"_I offer my sorrow. You are not used to those close to you dying." _

_The green-eyed boy half smiled. "Thank you, that means a lot, and…I've missed you, Noir."_

_Noir smiled, revealing pointed fangs, and swept the other into a hug. _

"_Only you would miss a thousand year old vampire geezer, Aspen." He said, breaking the solemn mood. "Do you still remember why I call you that?" _

_Aspen chuckled quietly as Noir released him. "You said the aspen is the noisiest of all trees, like me." he said quietly. _

'_Not so much anymore though...' Noir thought. _

¤

**T**hat was last summer. Now Harry gazed up at the vampire standing in his bedroom, looking as if all the weight of the world was about to be lifted from his shoulders.

"You accepted my offer Aspen. Why?" the gold-eyed man whispered.

His eyes seemed to suck in any light that that entered them, as if hording it all to themselves.

"I…I need my own path now." Harry responded, then looked at the man standing over him. "And you said you wanted escape."

"And for good reason Aspen! Once you do this, there's no turning back. You will be stuck forever..." Noir hissed.

Harry glowered. "First you make the offer, and now you telling me not to do it!"

"Harry, I'm simply making sure this is what you truly want." Pained gold eyes stared down at him. "You will have no escape, none but the one I am taking now. And I ask you again, are you absolutely certain?" asked Noir, his now hard voice leaving no room for untruths.

"Yes." Harry answered simply. His mind was totally made up. The vampire he'd met when he was only ten and befriended stood silent for a moment, then sighed, brushing back dark red hair.

Finally, "Lie down." he said. "This will only hurt for a moment."

Harry obeyed, lying perfectly still upon his cot. The man stood over him, hesitating.

"Aspen." he whispered.

"Yes?"

"Goodbye."

Harry closed his eyes. "Goodbye, Noir."

The last thing he felt was two pinpricks of pain on his neck before there was a sudden whooshing sensation and the world fell away beneath him.

¤

When Harry came to, the first things he noticed were the blood potions in bottles on the table beside him. 'Noir told me about those.' he thought groggily. 'I drink them so I don't have to feed……Noir!' His entire body snapped up, nearly flinging him from the cot with the force of the motion. He scrambled over to a mirror to observe the changes he knew would be there.

He stared into the cracked mirror pane silently. It was confirmed. He was now a full-fledged vampire of the ancient race. The kind that could live under the Sun's cruel wrath.

The only way an ancient vampire could die was by passing his immortality, and his life, onto another. Noir had told him about waiting hundreds of years to find the right person, even passing over the Four Founders, until he'd found him. Harry Potter, merely a child at the time.

Harry stared at his changed appearance. He was no taller, but he'd knew he'd grow. He had slightly longer nails, which he knew should be hard enough to cut through steel if he cared to test it. A few dark, almost blood red streaks decorated the hair he'd allowed to grow to shoulder length over the summer. His skin was several shades paler than it'd been before, but not unhealthily so. He knew he would only start looking sick if he didn't feed for several weeks.

The most prominent sign of Noir's legacy left to him, however, were the golden eyes that stared from his face. 'These could cause problems.'

Harry closed his eyes and concentrated hard, then opened them and sighed when he saw that they'd returned to their normal emerald. He smiled grimly, revealing now pointed canines. 'Okay, no smiling then.'

His best friend was gone.

He leaned his scarred forehead against the cracked glass. "Goodbye, Noir." this time his voice broke.

Harry finally allowed himself to cry for his lost friend.

¤

A/N:

More about Noir will be explained later.

Noir Et Blanc- French for Black and White

This is yet another plot bunny that's come to bite me in the butt. I'm on a bunny binge and I can't concentrate on anything! This fic is yet another product of that, and I can't guarantee when my update will be. They could be anywhere from a day in between to a year or more.

Please review though, as it's very encouraging.


	2. Testing Limits

_Two Days Later_

Harry sneered at the ease with which he bypassed the guard. He did like Tonks, really, but even with an Invisibility Cloak she created too much noise for him not to notice. It made it infinitely easier to slip past his 'guards' once he figured out which shift was hers.

Harry was **never** coming back to this accursed place again. He was a legal adult now, so he could leave if he wanted to, _and_ perform magic. That included the spell to shrink his trunk so that he could slip it into his pocket.

Today was the reading of Sirius' will, and Harry had no intention of missing it. First though, he had to do some shopping in Diagon Alley. He reached a secluded area between a hedge and someone's garden fence. Harry decided this looked safe enough for now. He reached deeply inside of his mind, searching.

Noir had long ago told him all that he knew about vampires, in preparation of the day he hoped Harry would accept his offer. He told him that each time a vampire was created, they were born with instincts and knowledge that were key to the vampire's survival, such as Flicking, which was a vampire means of Apparating, and the proper way to feed. It was the first he would draw upon now. With a shimmer, he dissolved.

¤

He reappeared right where he wanted to, near the wall outside the Leaky Cauldron that was the entrance to Diagon Alley. Harry pulled down the hood of his black cloak. It would look more suspicious in these dark times if he wore it up, and not many people would recognize him now that he had the distinctive scar covered in muggle make-up. The longer hair and slightly changed features were just another plus.

People bustled on by him with nary a glance in his direction, and Harry found himself enjoying the anonymity. Buying extra potions ingredients from the apothecary and books for extra-curricular reading went without incident. He decided that anything else he needed to see to wasn't here. 'To Knockturn Alley then.'

He slipped into the shady entrance of the alley, pulling his hood up in a swift motion. No one should ask any questions here, and if they did, no one else would stop him from hexing them into oblivion.

His first stop was a shady apothecary. Harry had enough blood potions to keep him for a few months, but he would soon after need to brew more to satisfy any cravings he might have for blood. He felt a silent alarm go off when he entered the store and looked around, spotting a greasy looking clerk behind a counter. 'The grease must be a potions thing.'

Only harmless products were on display in the front, so Harry walked right up to the man and dropped a piece of parchment on the counter. "I need the items on this list." he said, struggling to change his voice slightly, as to match his menacing appearance.

The clerk narrowed his eyes at him, but jumped when Harry released his tight control, and suddenly gold eyes glowed from the shadows of his hood.

The clerk quickly turned and nearly ran to the back room in his haste to comply. Soon he came back with the ingredients Harry wanted, and laid them on the counter before bundling them up with Harry's nod of approval. Harry put the required money on the counter before walking out of the shop. All this was done without another word spoken.

¤

Harry was incredulous. 'I just bullied a grown man into giving me illegal potions ingredients without speaking more than a sentence!' He wasn't sure how he felt about that.

There were two more things left to do before he went to the will reading: get another wand and buy a familiar. The first, Harry knew that it was easy to disarm him now, (he planned to have that remedied by the end of the summer) and most Death Eaters wouldn't suspect him carrying another wand, because it was illegal to have two. No one would suspect it of the precious 'Golden Boy'.

As for the second, now that Noir was gone he knew that he would need someone to talk to. It certainly wasn't going to be his 'friends'! Harry had been entertaining the idea of getting a snake almost ever since he discovered his ability to speak Parseltongue. Even before he'd discovered that talent, he'd had a peculiar fascination with snakes. Now it seemed that this would be his chance.

The emporium in Diagon Alley wouldn't carry snakes, being the largely considered evil symbol that they were. He would have to look elsewhere.

¤

The woman attending the shop looked up when he entered. She had a horsy face that reminded him strikingly of Aunt Petunia and he stopped, startled, at least until he remembered she hated being anywhere near animals. Still, he eyed her warily. She walked up to him and bowed slightly, almost mockingly.

"What can I do for you today? An owl, perhaps an imported billywig?" She grinned, baring yellow teeth.

"No," he said in the same cold voice he'd used before. "I'm here for a serpent." The woman looked surprised, but it quickly passed. She pointed to a back corner. "That's where all the reptiles are kept. Be careful about getting too close to the glass though. Some of the snakes are very territorial." With that advice and a sadistic grin, she spun about to greet the next cloaked customer that entered. Harry headed to the back of the room, where hissing was evident even from afar. Soon he could pick out words from the din.

-Ssshariss, I'm ssso bored! And my cage isss cramped.-

-Ssstop whining! It'sss not like I can do anything about it!- came an irritated voice.

-Ssshut up…- a deeper hiss vibrated.

-Make me!- came the first hissing whine again.

Harry couldn't contain his chuckle. The petty quarrel was just too funny. At the sound of his laugh the argument stopped.

-What'sss he laughing about?- A coral snake asked. He recognized it as whining voice earlier.

-How ssshould I know? Ssstupid humansss.- a large boa answered him. Harry chuckled again, and was about to speak when another voice interrupted him.

-I told you two to ssshut up! He can undersssstand usss.- a sibilant voice said. The others were instantly silent.

Harry turned to the source of the deeper voice. In a slightly bigger cage than the others, there was a large white snake of a kind he'd never seen before. She had a smooth head, like a mamba's. Her body was almost eight feet long from what he could tell, and her unmarked scales shimmered slightly in the dim light.

-Are you done with your appraisal?- she asked, a hint of amusement in her voice. Harry had the grace to blush slightly as he met milky colored snake eyes.

-I apologize, I didn't mean to stare.- he replied. A round of surprised gasps came from the surrounding cages, but he was focused on the snake he knew instinctually was a female. -May I be so rude as to ask what kind of snake you are? I've never seen anything like you.-

The female had slithered up to the glass and was now looking directly at him. -How ssshould I know what your kind would classssify me asss? I am myssself.- She moved her head toward a sign on the glass panel. -I think what you will want to know isss on that. All the othersss who were ever interesssted in me read that firssst.-

There was only basic information on the scrap of paper, but it was enough for Harry to make his choice.

_Breed: Ferus Mortem _

_Adult Size: The actual size this breed can grow to is unknown, as each snake can grow and shrink at will. They require a large cage because of this. Largest recorded size is forty feet long and five feet wide._

_Venom: The venom of the breed is classified as (Extremely Lethal). One drop can kill as many as three humans if not treated two minutes after being bitten._

_Markings: None, an opaque white color _

_Classification: XXXX (Dangerous) Though this breed is very deadly, they tend to stay away from humans, and have not yet caused enough of a death rate to warrant an (Extremely Dangerous) classification._

_Additional Notes: This particular snake was found to be extremely volatile. She bit her previous handler four times before she could be wrestled away. Recommended only for experienced reptile handlers._

Harry looked back at her with a bemused expression. -It says that you bit a person four times, once.-

She snorted imperiously. -That human was ssstupid. He waved food in front of my face after ssstarving me for three monthsss. I am happy he isss dead.- she ended with a bitter tone. Harry adopted a thoughtful expression.

-What is your name?-

She looked at, as if judging his worth, then answered, -The human woman callsss me Letalisss.-

-That's an interesting name. It means 'deadly' in one of the human tongues.-

-Really? That _isss_ very interesssting.- If a snake could grin sadistically then Harry was sure Letalis would have done it right then.

-I was wondering…if you would like to come with me, as a companion? I absolutely promise that I will feed you.- he said tentatively. She was silent, and for a moment Harry thought she would refuse.

-Yesss, I will come with you. I'm very tired of thisss place.- she said finally. -But I ressserve the right to bite you if you try to ssstarve me! Now get me out.-

Harry grinned as he lifted the lid from the glass cage. (No one would try to steal a deadly snake.) She climbed up his arm, and he watched in wonderment as she quickly shrank from eight feet long to barely two. -That's amazing.-

-Flattery will get you nowhere.- she hissed, but he could still tell that she was grudgingly pleased. He walked to the front of the now empty store and went to the counter where the clerk was waiting. A slightly pale shade made it's way onto her horsy face when she saw the snake the was now wrapped around his shoulders.

"You got Letalis out and she hasn't bitten you yet? That breed's very fierce, especially that one!" she was very surprised and slightly anxious.

"I…have an affinity with reptiles." Harry admitted, and watched her face rapidly change from shock to slight suspicion. He went on though. "I need a box of rats and the price for her, please." he said cuttingly. She quickly got out the rats and rang up the price.

"That'll be two-hundred galleons for the snake and nine sickles for the rats." she still spoke warily. Harry dug out his money and set it on the counter. 'I hope my new wand doesn't cost much. I have barely any money left.'

He walked out of the store contentedly, a snake sliding under his cloak and a pair of slightly fearful eyes on his back.

¤

Getting a wand however, was a different matter entirely.

It'd taken him over an hour to find the wand shop in Knockturn. That left him slightly irritated. A French woman had introduced herself only as Michelle, the wandmaker there.

Another hour later had Harry frustrated while the nearly white skinned French beauty tapped her lips in thought. The thirty-something woman studied him. "I daresay that you've gone through my entire stock in the front!" she said in a perfect British accent. "Perhaps we could do better just by making you a wand." Michelle sounded rather excited a the prospect.

Harry was surprised. "You can custom make one?"

"Of course I can! I just haven't had to in over fifty years!" she said gleefully.

'Just how old is this lady?' he thought. She'd been reminding him of a slightly more excitable Ollivander ever since he'd entered the shop.

"Uh, will this cost much extra?" he asked. He didn't exactly have enough money to be throwing around.

Blue eyes pierced through him. He swore she could see right through his dark hood.

"The price depends on the materials used." Michelle pulled out a large cedar box from underneath the counter. "I want you to close your eyes and place your hand over each item in the box. When you find one that feels right, point to it. Only pick out the ones that you have no doubt about, or your wand could end up not fitting you."

Nervously, Harry did what he was told, anxious about closing his eyes in front of a stranger he'd just met. She sent him a reassuring smile, which did little to help.

As he touched the first item he was met with a tingling feeling. It wasn't…unpleasant per se, so much as not _right_. Harry ran his fingers over five more things before stopping on a piece of wood. A warm rush shot through him, and he pointed at it before moving on. Harry stopped three more times before he had no more items to touch. On Michelle's instruction he opened his eyes.

On the table before him he saw a pale block of wood, a small brown jar, a clear vial with dark liquid that looked suspiciously like blood in it (and also vaguely familiar), and a feather.

"You have an unusual amount of cores for your wand. Some powerful wizards might have two, but you have three." Harry looked Michelle. "Your core items are very rare. This is shaping up to be quite an expensive wand."

"I don't have the money with me to pay for it right now." he explained.

"Don't worry about it right now. We'll figure that out later." Suddenly the woman grinned. "Don't you want to know what the items are before I make your wand?"

Harry smiled back slightly. This cheerful disposition was not something he'd come to expect in Knockturn Alley, and he found it rubbing off on him. "Yes, I'd like that."

"Great! Now, the wood you picked out is Yew. Do you know the symbolism in that?" she asked. Harry shook his head, feeling the blood drain from his face. Yew was the same wood that Voldemort's wand was made of, and that was all he knew about it.

"Yew is traditionally known as the tree of death. (1) It's properties are very potent when it comes to any kind of offensive magic." She moved on to the black and red feather. "This feather came from a Black Occamy. That's a kind of winged snake. I bought it from a traveling African shaman. A very interesting man…" she shook herself and continued. "This vial here, as I'm sure you've guessed, is blood. However, this is Dementor blood. It's been distilled of it's emotion sucking properties."

At Harry's incredulous look she snapped, "Don't look at me like that! I'd never go near the things. I received this from a Chinese man a few years ago!… The last thing on the list," she held up the brown jar, "is willingly given powdered vampire fangs." Harry tried very hard to hide his shock.

She set the jar down on the stone counter. "You have quite the strange combination going here."

Harry grimaced and muttered something unintelligible under his breath. Michelle laughed.

"I shall start the process then." She reached under the counter again and brought out a large stone bowl with runes around the edge. It reminded him vaguely of a Pensieve. She placed each ingredient carefully within it, setting the wood block on top.

Harry tensed when she pulled out her wand, but relaxed slightly when all she did was mutter a many-worded incantation before putting it away.

Ever so slowly, the ingredients started to mix and blend. They blurred even in his enhanced vampire sight, becoming a whirling mass of black.

Finally, the bubbling fluid stopped churning. The mass became a still and thick liquid. Michelle reached into the nasty looking soup unwaveringly, and pulled out a thin stick that hadn't been there before. A towel appeared out of nowhere in her hand, and she wiped it clean, revealing a slim wand made out of light wood with a shiny black handle. It looked more like a highly polished twig than anything else.

Michelle seemed to guess his thoughts. "Don't worry. It may look flimsy but all of my wands come out stronger than iron. It comes in useful when the Ministry tries to snap them." She smiled and proffered the handle. "Try it out."

Hesitantly, Harry took it between delicate fingers.

It was if he'd tapped into something he'd never known he had. Pure, unadulterated _power_ washed through him, coming and receding in waves. Thinking quickly, he cast a charm he'd read about in a book during the summer, but hadn't tried out.

"Nox Flamma." he intoned.

Harry had a hard time holding back the sudden rush of energy, but he managed it. A small black ball of flame appeared in front of him, dancing wherever he directed it. Soon he canceled the spell and turned back to Michelle. "It's perfect!"

Suddenly though, his posture slumped. "But I told you I don't have the money for an expensive wand."

Michelle smiled at him knowingly. "And I told you not to worry about it! I'm giving it to you. All I require," she said when he looked up startled, and motioned to a leather bound book in front of her, "is your name. I'll log it with your wand. This is for personal record only. The Ministry will never see it." she said placatingly, opening the book.

Harry panicked for a moment before he could squash the emotion. 'I can't tell her my name! What should I do? I have to think…'

"My name is Aspen. Aspen Noir." he finally spoke. Michelle paused while the book suddenly glowed, and Harry could see what he'd just said written there, along with a description of his wand.

"Have nice day, Mr. Noir. I hope the wand serves you well." Michelle said with a smile.

Harry nodded. "The same to you." he said with a returning smirk, and turned away.

Sky blue eyes followed him as he strode out the door.

"So, you are the protégé Noir spoke so much about…"

Glamoured fangs gleamed in the shop lights.

"This should be interesting."

¤

A/n: The next installment. More of a filler chapter than anything.

(1) Please correct me if I'm wrong on that. It's been awhile since I studied wood's magical properties. I'm getting rusty.

Reviews are appreciated.


	3. Blood and Ink

Though his face didn't show it, it was a nervous Harry Potter that stepped into Gringotts Bank that afternoon.

'What if Dumbledore is here? He'll know that I'm no longer at the Dursley's and try to make me go back…I'll not go back to that cursed place again!' He snarled unconsciously, causing a few passersby to jump in fright.

'They should be scared!' he followed a new train of thought. 'Voldemort's on the loose and they act like nothing's the matter!'

Harry reached a granite counter, behind which a sharp-nosed goblin sat.

"Can I help you?" the goblin asked in an unfriendly voice. He most obviously didn't want to help at all.

"I'm Harry Potter, here to attend the reading for the will of Sirius Black." he said quietly. The goblin scrutinized him closely, searching for any shred of untruth. He could feel Letalis tighten around his neck as she sensed his nervousness. Suddenly the goblin grinned rather nastily.

"You've changed quite a bit, Mister Potter."

Harry spoke without missing a beat, "And you not at all, Griphook."

Griphook's eyebrows shot up, obviously surprised that a human would bother to remember his name. He recovered quickly though, and soon was all business. He slid off his stool and motioned to Harry. "Follow me please. You're an hour early, but Manager Ragbloc wishes to speak to you before the will is officially read."

He led Harry to a side door that went into a wide hallway. Harry glanced around. Carvings littered the stone walls. There were epic tales of great battles from what he could see. He even recognized a couple of scenes from the Goblin Rebellions. 'I didn't know I remembered so much from History of Magic...'

Soon they reached a large metal door. It was a silver looking, and carved strikingly with runes for protection and wealth. Griphook rapped loudly on it. They stood waiting until a guttural, "Come in." could be heard. Griphook walked in first, and Harry pushed the heavy door open further.

Suddenly he yelped and pulled away. The flesh on his palm burned and hissed. He grimaced and turned to the two astonished goblins in the room.

"Is this the way you treat all your invited guests?" his tone held little inflection in it as he spoke.

The goblin sitting behind a large desk shook his head. "I apologize Mister Potter. In the past vampires often warred with we goblins. I would have taken precautions if I had known of your…condition."

He motioned to a chair in front of the desk and Harry, not yet trusting him, sat gingerly on the edge. The goblin merely raised his eyebrow.

"You may leave now, Griphook." he said.

Griphook nodded to Harry and bowed to the other, before leaving through the silver door.

"I am Chief Ragbloc, Manager of the Branch of Britain…" he paused, looking uncertain. "Might I inquire if this condition is new?"

Harry shifted uneasily. 'How much information can I trust him with? I'll just give bare bones for now.'

"I was turned very recently." then he leveled a glare at the goblin. "And I do hope it won't be getting around any time soon."

Ragbloc held up his hands placatingly. "No need to worry about that Mister Potter. We goblins have a strict code when it comes to the secrecy of our clients. It does not matter to us what species you hail from, only that you have finances." Seeing Harry slightly calmed, he got down to business. "I requested this meeting on the matter of your inheritance. Now that you are legally a wizarding adult, you are granted access to your family vault, which was formerly in the care of your magical guardian."

Harry's sensitive ears perked at this. "I have a family vault?"

Ragbloc frowned. "You were not aware of this? Your magical guardian, Albus Dumbledore, was supposed to have informed you of the Potter Vault when you rejoined the wizarding world. Letters were sent to you every quarter year to inform you of the status of your investments."

Harry growled low in his throat. "I received none of those letters and was told absolutely nothing on the matter of a family vault. Has Dumbledore accessed my family or trust funds? Is there any way to cut him from the accounts?" he questioned angrily.

"Dumbledore is was unable to touch any of the assets from your family vault. However, there is a record of several thousand galleons being taken from your trust fund." Ragbloc looked up from his papers to see a white-knuckled Harry Potter clutching the armrests on his chair. "I'm afraid that chair has not had the fortune to be warded against vampire strength." he raised an eyebrow once again.

Harry unclenched his hands and looked at where his fingernails had left deep gouges in the wood. "Sorry." he said, embarrassed. He still didn't know his own strength. Ragbloc dismissed it with a wave of his warty hand.

"Do not trouble yourself over it. I suppose as a newly turned Ancient, you would not yet know your limits." Ignoring Harry's surprise, Ragbloc shuffled around and pulled out a thick blue folder.

"These are the records for the Potter finances and estates. It also includes the total sums of money in both your liquid and solid assets." He handed it to Harry and waited as the young vampire looked the papers over. Two minutes later he looked back up a the goblin with almost impossibly wide green eyes.

"Er, exactly how much is this in comparison to other wizarding families?" he choked.

Ragbloc thought for a moment. "I believe the Potters come in close third when it comes to liquid assets in Britain. The family has always managed their money very well." Harry stared at the file he was holding. _12,260,853 Galleons, 6703 Sickles, 8904 Knuts. _It read. He'd never cared much for money, except having enough to live off of. This…this was too _much_!

"If you are done, Mister Potter, then we can summon your family rings before the will reading." Harry was forced to swallow his shock in order to speak.

"Family rings? Wouldn't there only be one ring?"

"There is only one ring for the Potter line. However, with the Pureblood families diminishing as they have been, more inheritances are being passed to distant cousins." Ragbloc waved a hand over his desk. Suddenly a shallow stone bowl made out of white marble shimmered into view. "You need to put your blood in this bowl-" at Harry's look of horrific apprehension he hastily tried to calm him, "Only one drop! It's needed to verify your heritage. One drop is not enough to perform a blood ritual. It will only summon the rings of your family lines, wherever they may be at the time."

Warily, Harry eyed the bowl. He stepped toward it, blatantly ignoring the small knife obviously provided for this purpose that was lying to the side. He pricked his index finger on a sharp fang and gingerly squeezed it over the marble. As soon as a drop of his precious red life fell, he stuck the finger back in his mouth, sucking to heal the cut.

The drop hissed and sputtered, seeming to melt into the stone as it colored the veins that ran through it. As he and Ragbloc waited pensively, three rings rose up seemingly out of the stone. Ragbloc raised an eyebrow. "When it comes to you Mister Potter, I can't say if I was expecting more or less." Before Harry could react he pointed to one of the rings. It was a sparkling gold color, set with a topaz on which the shape of a 'P' was carved. "This one is obviously the Potter ring." He picked it up and dropped it into Harry's waiting hand. Harry slipped it on his right index finger, and was surprised when a rush of heat ran through him.

Letalis, whom he'd nearly forgotten by then, hissed at the disturbing sensation.

Ragbloc grinned. "Good, that means the ring accepts you."

"What would it have done if it hadn't?"

"You don't want to know..."

Harry winced. The goblin pointed to the next ring. "Can you hazard a guess at this one?"

It was a very masculine gold ring, heavyset with small rubies surrounding a raised 'G'. He concentrated on it a moment before his eyes widened. "Gryffindor?" he gasped. Ragbloc nodded.

"Don't ask me how it came about! You could have received it from your father, or any number of other places. You may even have gotten it only because the line judged you worthy."

Harry couldn't help but subconsciously dismiss the last option. Why would the bright Gryffindor line choose a (though newly turned) Dark creature as it's successor?

With this new thought in mind, he was suddenly very wary about putting it on. As soon as it slid on the finger next to the Potter ring, a tingling sensation appeared but was displaced quickly by power that rumbled to his core like the growl of a lion.

"Whoa."

Ragbloc smirked in amusement before turning to the other ring and frowning. "I can't say I recognize the family this one comes from." Harry turned his attention on the last ring, and couldn't stop his jolt as searing recognition burned his eyes.

The ring was pure and simple obsidian, rounded out of a single stone. Though the ring was turned so he couldn't see it, he knew there was a French inscription on the inside circle. _Blood of Night_, it read.

Noir's ring, that the red-haired vampire had worn every time Harry saw him. Now it was his last gift to Harry.

With shaking fingers he picked it up with all the fragility of glass. He slipped it on where Noir had always donned it, his left index finger. For a moment, nothing happened.

Then came a tiny pinprick of pain as the ring stole more of his blood, tasting it. Suddenly it burned fiercely, but before he could so much as twitch is stopped, then shrank to fit his finger perfectly. He smiled. There had been no rush of power. There was simply a familiarity of an old possession that mystified him.

Harry smiled, fangs protruding over his upper lip.

Ragbloc suddenly looked up. "The will reading is in fifteen minutes."

He frowned. "Will Dumbledore be there?"

"No," Ragbloc said, "he was not included in the will. Also, no one present will be able to speak about who was there, and what they received. They will only be able to tell of their own gains. In addition, no harm may come to anyone within the room. It is something that is ingrained in wizarding culture." he looked at Harry's once again surprised expression. "Though it seems there are those who don't know of the common customs."

"It appears I don't know much of anything." he muttered under his breath. Again raising an eyebrow (he was reminding Harry very much of Snape), Ragbloc dug around his desk once more before passing an object over to him. It was a slim leather bound book. "_Common Wizarding Customs?_" he read the title aloud.

"Yes, goblins make a habit of keeping up with what the wizards are up to. That one is self updating, though why they bother since the customs never change I do not know. I expect to have that back before the beginning of your school year."

Harry looked up at him. "You're lending this to me?"

"Yes. It is most informative and I believe it will be very useful. It was very nice to meet you, Mister Potter."

Not wanting to look a gift horse in the mouth, Harry accepted the goblin's offered hand and shook it firmly. Ragbloc called Griphook back in. "Please escort Mister Potter to the will reading." he said. Griphook nodded and held the door open so that Harry wouldn't have to touch it. He led him through a maze of granite hallways that twisted and turned in seemingly erratic directions. Finally they stopped before another door, bronze this time, and Griphook once again opened it for him.

"This is where I leave you." he said quietly. Harry nodded his thanks to the young goblin and pulled up his hood again. Despite the rules of secrecy, Harry still wanted the element of surprise.

He spotted a few like-minded people as soon as he walked in. Three people sat over in the corner with deep black hoods drawn over their faces. A slight shift in the air had their scent drifting toward him, and he could already sense the innate darkness they held. 'Most likely the Malfoys.' He thought to himself. They were a distant part of Sirius' family, though he had no idea why the man would have included them in his will.

There were two other people who looked up when he entered. He recognized them right away as Tonks and Remus. The man shifted around to look at him, taking in a deep breath. Harry panicked for moment, wondering if the werewolf could tell who and _what_ he was by his scent. He forced himself to calm down and his heart to slow as he remembered the secrecy custom. Even if Remus and Tonks did recognize him. Harry sat down in one of the chairs provided, near the door.

A wizened old goblin looked up from where he sat behind yet another desk. "Ah, good. You're here. Now we may begin." He gazed at everyone in the room, though it seemed more of a glare than anything else.

"I will remind you all of the secrecy and protection customs. That means you are not to speak of what transpires in this room, and you are also not to attack one another within the walls of Gringotts."

Receiving an affirmative nod from everyone, he pulled out a yellowed sheet of parchment covered in lines of black ink.

"_I, Sirius Orion Black, being of relatively sound mind and body, hereby will in case of my death the specified amount of property and money to the following people:_

_To Remus Lupin, I will two-thousand galleons. Get yourself new clothes, Moony._"

Remus looked like he was ready to cry as the goblin waved him towards the desk, and readily signed the paper handed to him after amber eyes had given it a once-over. Harry watched concernedly as the man gingerly sat back down. The full moon had apparently been very recent. Most likely last night if the haggard look on the man's face were any indication.

"_To Nymphadora Tonks, I will five-hundred galleons, along with re-instatement into the Black family. You and your mother deserve it, Nymphy." _

Tonks stumbled to her feet on her way to the desk, and unhesitatingly signed the paper before sitting back down.

"_To Narcissa and Draco Malfoy. I leave you the West Grim Manor. It's yours if you ever need a place to stay." _Two of the cloaked figures rose from their chairs. Harry's theory was proved right as the blondes pulled off their hoods before signing. The younger Malfoy looked pale and drawn, while his mother looked terribly fatigued.

'That's interesting.' Harry thought. 'I wonder what's going on to leave them in that condition.' He didn't know though. With his Occlumency shields up the past few months, Harry had received no informative but painful visions.

"_To Bellatrix Lestrange,"_

Harry started. 'Bellatrix?'

He supposed he should have expected it. She was part of the Black family after all, but it had never occurred to Harry that Sirius might leave his hated cousin anything.

He glanced at the remaining cloaked figure in time to see her pull down her hood, revealing the brown-haired woman with an insane glint in her eyes. Harry tensed, all his instincts screaming for her bloody death. He noticed Tonks and Remus do the same, but quickly restrained himself, eyes flashing gold under his hood. He had no idea what the punishment would be if he broke the customs, and he sincerely didn't want to find out.

"_To Bellatrix Lestange, I leave you nothing. As the now former Patriarch of the Blacks I disown you from the family line, and I'm sure that the current head will agree with me. If you had anyting to do with my death, I hope you burn in hell…"_

Harry watched in satisfaction as the dark woman's face twisted in a mask of rage and she sank back into her chair. It seemed that Sirius would have the last word in this, after all. Harry held his breath for the next line, knowing there was no one else left to receive anything.

"_To Harry James Potter, I leave the entirety of my remaining estates and money, including Grimmauld Place. I give him the title of my blood heir and Head of the Blacks. Use it well, Prongslet…" _

Five pairs of eyes darted about the room before finally coming to rest on him. Harry swallowed nervously before steeling himself and lowering his hood. He heard Tonk's gasp at his changed appearance.

"Harry, you're not supposed to be here!" Remus exclaimed. Harry turned to him with a slight smirk, careful not to show his fangs.

"Oh, but I am. And Dumbledore doesn't need to know I'm not under his control anymore."

¤

A/n: And here's the next chapter! I hope you liked it. I would really appreciated more reviews on this and some of my one shots, like **The Price of Responsibility **and **Plague**.

I hope you all have a Merry Christmas! 'Cause I certainly won't. (Bloody family of pagan haters...)

Please review!


	4. Encounters and Change

**We cannot be changed. It is we who must change ourselves...**

¤

_The immortal vampires, the so called 'Ancients', are a little known legend among wizarding kind. They are of the few true immortals to walk the earth, and in my years of study I have gained little more information than a few scraps of hearsay. _

_They've been said differentiate greatly from the regular vampires that we commonly know of. They have the ability to walk in the sun without a painful death or burning. They also only need to satisfy a craving of blood every other week. _

_The origin of the Ancient Vampires is unknown to humans. Having never had the chance to meet one, I was forced to look elsewhere. The only information I could find was a brief mention of a long lost poem, forgotten with the passage of time. Whether it is also lost to the vampires is undisclosed. _

_In many tales by both muggles and magical folk, the Ancients have been portrayed as invincible. Indeed, being unable to die, these beings seem only to be able to suffer pain, but have the ability to heal quickly and move on. There is one particular tale of an Ancient being stranded at the bottom of an ocean for nearly two years, periodically passing out from lack of air, before washing up on a Caribbean beach one day, half rotted. He was right as rain within a week, though the same could not be said for his mind. _

_There has even been speculation among a circle of vampire experts whether or not an Ancient can survive the Killing Curse. If so, it could bring a whole other area of research to light. "What is it that protects them? Is there a way to copy such an effect?" Those and more questions have been asked._

_Still, little on the species themselves has been found, other than the occasional glimpse through history when they chose to ally themselves to one lordship or another. We must keep in mind the speculation behind these theories, and-_

Harry snapped the book shut and tossed it onto the bed where he'd been reading.

He'd been searching for more information on his new species, but half of the things the book held were absolute rubbish. In addition, it'd been the only book he could find that held _any_ information on Ancients. It seemed nothing could compare to the knowledge a true Ancient vampire had drilled into him the last few years.

Harry sighed and ran his finger through long red streaked hair. The Black family ring clinked against his dangling runic earring.

A great deal had changed for Harry in these past few weeks. Along with the passing of his sixteenth birthday had come hundreds of presents from witches and wizards from around Britain.

Now that he was out of the Dursley house and had moved into one of the Potter Manors, it seemed that the wards Dumbledore had put up no longer kept out all owls not from the Headmaster himself or the Order. Harry'd checked to make sure that his new wards kept out all owls with ill intent, but he was not prepared for the mountain of paraphernalia that greeted him at the breakfast table on the 31st.

He'd been sent everything from toys, to books and potions, to weapons (which Harry was overjoyed with. It gave him a greater chance to train in something other than magic.), and free things from the owners of miscellaneous stores.

He'd gotten two new broom sticks (including the Lightningbolt, a newer version of the Firebolt), mounds of food under heating charms, moving photographs, trinkets that glittered and flew, and even (to his embarrassment) wizarding porno mags and moving naughty naked pictures.

Harry had also received offers of marriage, from people of ages five all the way up to seventy-three! And quite a few of them had turned out to be males.

He eventually took that to mean that the Wizarding world was somewhat more loose about homosexuals than muggles. It seemed that would be one small weight off of his heavily-loaded shoulders.

After his disastrous relationship with Cho, Harry'd gradually started wondering about himself and his orientation. In a panic he'd even secretly snuck off to the library in the dead of night to look at books on sexuality, after he'd caught himself checking out a handsome Ravenclaw male.

The realization had come more easily to him than he'd expected it would. Somewhere deep down, Harry supposed he had always known. He did get along well with girls, but he didn't understand them and things always became awkward when they became sexual. He seemed to freeze up because he could never think of what to say or do…

Harry Potter never seemed to conform to expectations.

Everyone expected him to get a nice girlfriend. Not possible. Everyone expected him to respect and obey Dumbledore. Not a single shred of respect was left within him for the esteemed Headmaster. Everyone expected him to kill Voldemort. No one knew he's seriously thought of _joining_ the man once or twice, if only to escape.

No one would have expected Harry to take up one of the offers he'd received for his birthday, and go out to get his ear pierced. The old Celtic symbol for Love now dangled from a thin chain in his left earlobe. It glinted silver in contrast to the Black ring, which was made of an unidentified dark metal, and sat on his left middle finger.

Harry had been told that the fingers on which you placed the rings were important. The closer to the index fingers, the closer you were to that bloodline. Since Harry was a direct heir of both the Potter and Noir families, those two were on his index fingers.

¤

-Finissshed reading, Harry?- came a voice that cut through his thoughts. Harry looked up at the large white snake that slid gracefully through the door.

Over the past few weeks he and Letalis had grown very close. They'd talked for hours of their lives, and though Harry's story was longer than hers, Letalis often offered interesting opinions and insights.

Letalis had also taken a liking to exploring the grounds. Harry saw no reason to keep her in a cage as long as she promised note to eat or bite anyone. It'd been she who'd discovered the Manor's house elves. Though they'd been terrified of her at first, after Harry's many assurances they'd learned to at least grow used to her, if not unafraid.

They did quickly recover when they found out that Harry was their new master. Apparently the elves had been wasting away with no one to serve for so many years, though none of the seemed to border on Kreacher-like behavior. For that, Harry was thankful.

-Yes, Letalis. That book would go in the rubbish bin if it didn't have useful information on other dark creatures!- he growled in answer to her question. -How did your hunt go?-

With a normal snake he'd be able to tell by the bulge in her belly, but with her ability to change size he was never certain.

Letalis' white eyes scrutinized the room. -It wasss fruitful. I caught a few rabbitsss.- She raised her head so it was level with the bed and slunk onto it before curling up in his warm lap. He used a sharp nail to scratch a favorite spot under her scaly chin. -When isss the old human expecting to gather you back at the Dursssleysss?-

Harry looked over to where his OWLs results lay on his desk. Passing grades in everything he wanted, even Potions! Fate never seemed to get tired of throwing him curveballs…

-On September 1st. His stupid letter said the Order would pick me up and take me to the train. I expect he'll have guards on the train too, in case something happens.-

-And until then you're just going to read…- she sighed in exasperation.

Harry sniggered. -Not just read, Letalis. I'll be training my body and my magic too.-

-I don't sssee why you cannot jussst turn into a sssnake and come hunting with me inssstead.- the reptile huffed.

This time he laughed. -Trust me, I'm working on it.-

¤

One Remus Lupin sat in a ratty black velvet chair at the Headquarters for the Order of the Phoenix. He gazed into the burning fireplace, slowly swirling a glass of brandy that had been carefully squirreled away from Molly, who'd a habit of confiscating such things.

It normally wasn't like Remus to blatantly go against the Weasley matriarch in such a fashion, but he desperately needed to think. And, like the other 80 percent of his free time, (the rest was spent sleeping) it was about Harry.

Something had been nagging at him ever since a certain black-cloaked figure walked through the door at Gringotts. It was just the barest waft of scent that reached his snout. It sent his werewolf senses shrieking at him to investigate, but Remus had been too distracted by the will reading to follow through.

Then Harry had revealed himself, and oh, how he'd _changed_. The smell of Harry mixed with undiluted darkness had hit him head on, leaving his wolf temporarily stunned. It was only the human part of him that had been able to respond to the sudden changes, leaving him at a disadvantage.

By the time Remus had fully recovered, Harry'd signed his papers and was out the door. But it had not been without a few choice words about Albus, regardless of the company…

Remus couldn't tell anyone. And…he found himself wondering if he even wanted to…

Remus continued with his habit of sipping the brandy. Drinking and swirling, drinking and swirling, all the while staring into the flames with amber eyes glazed in thought.

¤

Harry felt shockingly calm for his situation as he sat out on the Dursley's front doorstep. All it had taken was a glare and fingered wand for the stupid pigs to leave him alone while he waited. Harry hummed under his breath, happy with a ploy perfectly set up. His un-shrunken trunk sat beside him, giving the illusion that he was eager to leave. In reality, he was, just not with the people coming for him.

By reading the book he'd received from Ragbloc, Harry had discovered that none of the people at the will reading would be able to pass on any information learned during it, through mind or mouth, intentionally or not. Though the reasons for such strict rules had been unclear, Harry just shrugged. He didn't really need the reasoning, as long as things went according to his plans.

Today was September the First. And as far as Dumbledore and the majority of the Order knew, he'd been here all summer. It was absolutely amazing, what sustained illusions could do!

A series of sharp cracks alerted him to approaching wizards, and Harry quickly checked to make sure the glamours over his rings and teeth were in place. He watched from his place on the step as the forms of Tonks, Remus, and Shacklebolt came into view. The last looked confident as he walked, the first looked uneasily at him, and Remus met his stare dead-on for a moment. Harry could almost see the indecisive thoughts racing through the man's head before he was forced to turn away as the Shacklebolt spoke.

"Ready to go, Potter? But first, what's the name of Headquarters?" the dark-skinned Auror asked quickly. Apparently the Order was in a hurry to get him out of here and on the train as fast as possible.

Harry stood up, brushed off his actually fitting dark blue jeans and black t-shirt, then answered. "Headquarters is located at Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place. How did I save Sirius in my third year?" he addressed Remus, keeping his tone friendly. The werewolf smiled weakly.

"You and Hermione used her Time Turner."

After both confirmations, the three people surrounded him closely as they stepped outside the blood wards. Harry hadn't needed to ask a question. His vampire senses would have alerted him if they were imposters, but it would look suspicious if he didn't, so he played along. His last thought as they apparated to the platform was how much better Flicking was than this...

¤

Draco Malfoy cringed when Avada Kedavra green eyes met his through the glass door.

He knew exactly how terrible he looked on the outside. Even before his father had been arrested during the Department of Mysteries fiasco, Draco's decision had been made. He wasn't going to take the Mark. He'd seen the horrible things the Dark Lord did, and no matter how much he respected and loved his father, there was no way he could bring himself to follow in his footsteps and serve that…monster…Especially with his need to protect his mother.

After the election of Rufus Scrimgeour, almost the first move the new Minister made was to confiscate all Malfoy properties. He left the two remaining Malfoys with no home and barely enough to live on. It was only through the will of Sirius Black, Narcissa's disdained cousin that they had any place to stay at all.

Now he was locking eyes with the boy who could make or break his family. If Potter rejected his mother from the family, the tiny stipend they received as Blacks would be cut, leaving them in total poverty.

"Why don't you come in, Malfoy." the other said, like he wasn't a Gryffindor inviting a Slytherin in. Draco twitched imperceptibly before he walked in and sat down with a stately grace on the opposite seat.

As much as Draco didn't want to acknowledge it, he was scared of what Potter could do.

"I take it the Prefect meeting's over then." Potter stretched languidly in his seat, still keeping both eyes trained on Draco's gray ones. The blond found he couldn't look away.

"Yes." he answered shortly, tense though his body didn't show it. The other's black brows furrowed.

"Why are you here? Shouldn't you be with your Slytherin groupies?"

Draco was silent for a moment, struggling with himself. He finally couldn't hold it in any more. "What are you going to do with my mother and I?"

Emerald orbs widened in shock. "What? Why would I do anything?" Suddenly a unreadable look passed over his face. "You…didn't take the mark, did you?"

This time it was Draco's turn to be shocked. "How did you know that?" slipped out before his pureblood composure could stop it. It was almost to much for him to take when the Gryffindor smirked.

"I know, because he's angry." he tapped his forehead where the infamous scar was hidden by stray bangs. "If you had a mark, you would be twitching right about…now."

Nothing happened.

Right then Draco decided to abandon any semblance of poise, and his face dropped smack into his palms. 'Merlin, what am I going to do? What's going to happen!' ran around his mind like some kind of demented dog. If Potter was able to perceive all of that within a minute, there was no way he was going to survive the school year. Suddenly he wished he'd hugged his mother a little tighter before leaving.

A touch to the shoulder pulled him out of his thoughts, and he wrenched himself away from the hand. "Leave me the hell alone!" he shouted.

"Malfoy…Draco!" That got his attention. "As the head of the Blacks, I promise to do whatever I can to protect you and your mum from Voldemort." it was said so sincerely and with such Gryffindor honesty, Draco could barely believe it when he nodded slowly. Things were happening too fast, and the situation was getting beyond his normally highly calculative mind.

Suddenly a small gold coin was pressed into one of his unguarded hands. "I've saving this. Use it if you need to contact me by saying my name. I should probably go find Hermione and Ron before they find me."

A stunned blond barely had time to ask one more incredulous question before Potter left.

"Why aren't you in Slytherin!?"

Potter paused in the hallway. He turned his head toward Draco.

"Who is the true snake, that can hide among the lions?"

Then with a final smirk, he left him.

¤

Harry calmly left the shell-shocked boy behind in the compartment, but really, his mind was in as much emotional turmoil as Draco's was. He had no idea what'd come over him, or why he'd said half of the thing that tumbled out of his mouth. Maybe all the wit and wisdom that Noir had tried to hammer in over the years was finally taking hold.

He rubbed a temple, trying in vain to stave off a headache that was coming on from being around so many people. Harry could hear the heartbeats and working lungs of those who passed him by. Through out the train he was assaulted by the strong odor that humans gave off. He wrinkled his nose. If it was like this for him he couldn't imagine how Remus had dealt with it. Werewolves had a stronger sense of smell than vampires did.

Harry stopped dead (no pun intended) at the sight the greeted him near the back of the train. Two prefects had decided to get a little…intimate. That wasn't what stopped him though.

Ron and Hermione were in the middle of a hot and heavy snog session. For a moment he just stood there, before shaking his head. It really shouldn't be such a shocker. Harry'd known that Ron liked Hermione since the Yule Ball. He'd just somehow never pictured him getting up the courage to tell her. He sighed and slid the door open. This was just one more thing he was missing out on. 'Were they even planning to tell me when they saw me today?'

The apparent couple hadn't noticed him yet, so Harry cleared his throat. The effect was instantaneous. They both jumped apart, gaping and blushing a furious red.

"H-Harry!" Ron exclaimed.

"We were-uh…just about to come find you!" Hermione squeaked. Harry blanked out his expression as he sank into the seat across from them.

"I'm sure….er," he paused, gesturing between them. "How long has this been going on?"

Both of them turned beet red again, and Harry noticed that the color set off Ron's hair rather awfully. Hermione squirmed uncomfortably under his empty stare.

"Uh, well, we got together at the end of the last school year." she said timidly.

His voice grated icily as he spoke, "And neither of my _best friends _thought to tell me ?" He put heavy emphasis on the friends part. Harry had been watching his feelings of friendship slowly waning throughout the summer, even slightly before that. He was afraid that the breaking point might be coming soon.

This time it was Ron who spoke. "You were really down because of Sirius, and then we could send letters over the summer, and we didn't…want…to tell you…" he trailed off at the end, eyes averted from Harry's. Harry looked at Hermione for confirmation. He didn't miss the pleading look in her face, and Harry felt his heart sink.

"You both were afraid I'd get mad and go crazy on you, or feel betrayed that you got together." he deadpanned. At their slow nods he stood up.

"Congratulations to the both of you. I feel betrayed." He didn't want to look at their faces and so he turned away.

"What do you mean! Harry, why are you acting like this? What happened to you?" Hermione cried out, also referring to his changed looks. Harry already had his hand on the door handle and refused to look at either of them.

"The reason I'm acting like this…I've stopped trying to be complacent 'just Harry', and decided to be who I feel I am inside. That's all the explanation I owe you."

He walked out right after that. The only sign of his incredible self-restraint being finger shaped dents in the metal of the door handle.

¤

Hogwarts was magnificent gray castle, built by her founders over six-hundred years ago. Her sweeping magical turrets and vastness had awed many a wizard to pass within her walls through the years. Even the far away unused rooms held a dusty sense of wonder about them.

What very few even knew about the castle however, was that she had a sentient mind. Hogwarts had no core, no brain center. Her magic and mind was laced throughout the very stone of her walls. Every time a spell went off within her, the magical residue built up a little more on her many wards and enchantments. The Founders had never intended their castle to have a consciousness, but nevertheless she did.

Her thoughts were more coherent than any human's, and she thought of herself as a mother to every student that passed through her; regardless of house, status, or blood, she would protect them the best she could. After they graduated, she could do not but watch and wish them well before she turned to her remaining children. Sometimes her children would return to become teachers, and that always left her overjoyed.

Now, the consciousness that was Hogwarts was angry. Very angry.

She could see and feel the mind of everyone on her grounds, regardless of how well shielded they were. What one Albus Dumbledore was doing to those around him sickened her. Formerly one of her children, he was a great and powerful man, who tried to keep the whole of the Light in his sight at once.

Unfortunately, the big picture was clouding his vision of the individuals, her children, that needed to be nurtured and protected. This was unforgivable. The Light's corruption in him had started over fifty years ago, centering on one of her most precious children. The heir of one of her creators, Tom Riddle.

Albus had totally lost sight of his objectives as Headmaster, to protect and serve. The _students_. Now he was sinking his claws into another heir, Harry Potter. Hogwarts had watched the boy slowly but surely breaking under the pressure.

If something was not done soon, all that would be left of him was broken bits, a mindless, heartless weapon in their place. She couldn't let that happen to the Gryffindor heir, one of her irreplaceable children. The boy had always loved her as much as she did him…

Albus Dumbledore was _no longer her child_.

And she would help Harry be happy if it was the last thing she did.

¤

Harry looked up in the carriage where he sat by himself. After greeting the thestrals, he'd climbed into a carriage and closed it before anyone else would think to join him. Through the window he watched as the gates of Hogwarts fell behind him. Harry decided he must have imagined the soft caress on his mind. He'd spent all week beforehand strengthening his Occlumency shields. He sighed with a smile.

"It's good to be home." Even though they were glamoured he could feel his fangs poking his lip as he grinned. "Time for things to change."

¤

A/n: And yet another update already! Wow, these things are being written fast. Sorry to those who are wanting the time travel. It's coming, I swear! Right now I'm manipulating Harry and the people around him to ease his switch to the Dark. (Oops! Did I say too much? Bad Megan+bangs head+)

I'm truly impressed with myself for getting this written so fast. Now if only my alerts would come…

Please review!


	5. Bugger

Dumbledore frowned when he saw Harry walk into the Great Hall separate from his friends. This wasn't good, especially for his plans. He would have to find out what happened between them. He took in Harry's changed appearance with a frustrated eye.

Harry'd changed drastically from the last time Albus saw him, and it didn't bode well for the Headmaster. He sighed mentally. At least the boy had stayed at the Dursley's like he'd told him to. Harry was getting more rebellious as time went on. That would make it hard for Albus to train him for the war when the time came. He hated having to do this to the innocent child, but it was for the good of the Light. They needed to win this war!

¤

Severus Snape grimaced in pain as his Mark pulsed again. It definitely wasn't a summons, or the pain would be worse. The Dark Lord was simply letting his servants know exactly how displeased he was at the moment. The greasy-haired man glared at anyone who dared to meet his gaze where he sat at the head table.

Watching all the sniveling brats file in, chattering loudly was giving him a headache in addition to the pain in his arm. Severus desperately wished to be in his quarters, kicking back with a brandy and a headache potion. Instead, he was forced just like every other year to sit through the Welcoming feast with the other professors. The only light side he could see to his situation was finally getting the DADA job this year. The old Head of Slytherin, Horace Slughorn, who was taking over Potions class, sat on the other end of the table.

He glanced down at his Slytherins. Out of all the sixth years approached over the summer, only two had refused to take the Dark Mark. The first had been Blaise Zabini. Coming from a long line of neutrals, no one had really expected him to accept. It was the second person that had surprised and angered so many, one reason that Draco Malfoy sat all alone at the end closest to the head table.

Severus' brow furrowed in concern. He'd not seen his godson since he'd refused the Mark, after having all of his property confiscated by the Ministry. The boy looked utterly awful. His normally pale skin was an unhealthy milk white, his normally meticulous hairstyle was now a mess of shaggy and unkempt strands, and his eyes were hooded, with deep bags underneath.

Suddenly Draco glanced at something for a moment, seemingly calculating, then glanced back down at his plate before he was noticed. Severus watched him closely for a minute, and the second time he did it he followed the boy's line of sight. Right to…

…Potter.

No, wait, it couldn't be…the boy he was staring at now bore barely any resemblance to the son of his enemy James Potter.

James Potter's son had short shaggy black hair and glasses. This boy had long dark hair streaked with red, and wore no glasses.

But it was still Harry Potter, no doubt about it. …And his godson was interested in the Gryffindor for some reason. Snape grumbled under his breath. Now he had to investigate before the blond did something unbecomingly stupid.

Severus sighed and violently stabbed his remaining steak with his fork. He could never seem to catch a break.

¤

Harry frowned at Dumbledore's announcement. The new professor was to teach Potions? So that must mean…

The Headmaster raised his voice over the whispers that permeated the Hall.

"Professor Snape, meanwhile, will be taking over Defense Against the Dark Arts." he concluded. Suddenly the buzzing of the students got louder, and Harry could see quite a few students staring at him, expecting him to protest.

Harry shrugged and looked at the table. If Snape got the job, so what? He was great at DADA, and maybe without the bat hanging over his neck he could finally focus on Potions.

He ignored Dumbledore as he launched into a speech about Voldemort, the safety of all the students, blah, blah, blah…He probably could have recited the same thing almost word for word if he cared to.

Harry silently stood up and followed the other Gryffindors out of the Hall. He pretended obliviousness to the numerous eyes that followed him, and to the glances that Ron and Hermione shot his way as they led the first years up the moving staircases.

¤

Severus sipped on the long awaited glass of brandy as he surveyed his godson. Draco had obviously been crying recently, though he'd concealed beneath light glamours. Snape hadn't survived so many years as a spy without being able to see through such weak defenses. Nonetheless, he couldn't help but be concerned.

He set the glass down on the office desk. "Now, tell me what's going on."

The gray eyed boy looked at him with surprise, feigning misunderstanding. "What do you mean, Uncle Sev?"

Severus glared, daring him to try worming his way out. "I mean what's happening between you and, Potter! I saw you watching him, Draco, and I am no fool."

"Would you believe me if I told you I fancied him?"

"No."

"Damn."

The pale boy visibly deflated under his stern gaze. "I…I'm worried about my mother, after what happened this summer." Severus nodded and he continued, "I've been tearing myself apart over it, wonder what I was going to do. Potter found out about it! And he…offered us his protection." the last was barely whispered as he fidgeted uncharacteristically.

"And just why," Snape asked bitingly, "would you believe that the stupid Golden Boy could protect you?" Draco winced at the harshness in his voice.

"Because," he breathed, "he can. Potter has the power to forbid me from becoming a Death Eater, and he can protect mother!" the boy trailed off.

For a moment, Severus was confused. Then shock caused him to stiffen in comprehension. "What! That would mean…but the Headmaster forbade him from leaving the house!…How could he have?" he trailed off, returning his attention to an even paler and sweating Draco.

"You cannot speak more or you will die," he deadpanned. At the young boy's nod, he pulled a potion from his robes. "Take this and leave for bed. You are exhausted, and I will not have you killing yourself to give me information."

He watched as Draco gulped down the potion. When he was looking considerably better, he said goodbyes to Severus and left.

Snape picked up his brandy again, moving to the hidden passage for his chambers. With a muttered password he stepped through the stone wall into a well lit room.

He sighed. It was good to be back where he felt comfortable. Sinking onto a gray couch was near heaven, but for the tingling pain that raced up his arm. He would have to figure out what to do with this new information before he was summoned again. This new revelation was not something he was going to share with Dumbledore…but as for the Dark Lord…

He would keep it to himself for now.

Snape shook his head. Right now it was time to rest. He'd think further on it in the morning.

¤

With the news of Snape taking over DADA, Harry's changes were the last things on everyone's mind, for which he was intensely grateful.

Snape had been his usual sardonic-bastard self during the class. Harry'd immediately paired up with Neville, letting the nervous boy whisper spell after spell at him while he pretended to try shielding himself. He'd caught Snape watching, and thought maybe that he knew. He prepared for the torrent of detentions and lost points to descend.

Surprisingly enough, the man had just ignored the both of them, choosing instead to pick on Ron and Hermione.

Harry smiled to himself as he sat down in the Potions classroom. He purposely took a seat near a bubbling cauldron of clear liquid, away from both Slytherins and Gryffindors. It had the faintest acrid smell to it, barely detectable even to his vampire senses. He trusted them though, so it couldn't have been plain water like his eyes believed.

"Now then, now then, now then, everyone get out your equipment, and don't forget your copies of _Advanced Potion Making_…" Slughorn said to them. Harry rummaged in his bag and frowned when he couldn't find his book. 'I could swear I had a copy!' He raised a hand.

"Sir?" Slughorn turned to him.

"Ah! You must be Harry Potter. What can I do for you?"

"I seem to have forgotten my book in my room." he said calmly, minutely disgusted at the Professor's sweaty scent. He was hard pressed not to wrinkle his nose in aversion.

"Oh, not a problem, not a problem! Just to don't forget it next time!" said Slughorn, wagging a finger at him before going over to a cupboard. He returned with an old and obviously used copy of _Advanced Potion Making_, then set it on the desk.

"Now then, I've prepared a few potions here," he motioned to the desk where several cauldrons bubbled. "that you should be able to make by the end of your N.E.W.T.s. Can anyone tell me what this one is?" Slughorn pointed to the one that looked like water. Predictably, Hermione's hand shot up and Slughorn pointed at her.

"It's Veritaserum, a colorless, odorless potion that forces the drinker to tell the truth," Hermione said. Harry frowned, looking at the potion. It was apparently the same one that Snape had threatened him with two years ago. And if it was supposed to be odorless, then why could he smell it?

Harry missed the next potion and the answer that came with it, though a glance at the familiar sludge told him it was Polyjuice.

Finally Hermione answered the third query. "It's Amortentia! It's supposed to smell different to each of us, depending on what attracts us, and I can smell fresh mown grass and-" Harry stopped pay attention to his former friend and focused on what he could smell. Simultaneously, the woody smell of a broomstick, coppery blood, and a faint musk wafted toward him. Harry smiled softly. Even the scent itself was intoxicating, never mind that it was a love potion.

Harry missed what suddenly caused the class to tense up with eagerness around him, but shrugged it off. If it'd been truly important he would have picked it up, preoccupied mind or not. He flicked through the book to look for the potion assignment on the board.

He noticed black, nearly unreadable writing on the margins of every other page and frowned. 'Someone doing potion research, maybe?' Still, he was a little annoyed that some of the words on several pages had been scribbled over.

Harry carefully followed the book's instructions, focusing his attention between the hot cauldron and his book, not caring what the others were doing. Finally he came to an area that was crossed out and replaced with alternative instructions when it came to preparing the sopophorous bean.

_Crush with the flat side of a silver dagger, releases juice better than cutting._

Harry raised an eyebrow. Would that really work?

Even if crushing it didn't work, he could always cut it up afterward. If the writer was misleading him, then Harry would get a bad potion grade for the day. At least Slughorn seemed fairer than Snape when it came to classroom grades.

Making sure no one was looking, he slipped a small silver knife from his inner robes. As he'd learned, it never hurt to cautious…

Harry carefully placed the dagger flat against the bean and crushed it.

It was amazing how much juice the little wrinkled bean could hold. Harry eyed the book appreciatively, when he was suddenly struck by how familiar the cramped handwriting was. He just couldn't place it…

Harry finished the potion, occasionally following the handwritten directives and ending pleased with his results.

"Time's up! Stop stirring, please!" Slughorn called. He went around the tables one by one, nodding at Hermione's cauldron. When he finally came to Harry's, however, he broke into a delighted smile.

"Excellent, Harry! You've clearly inherited your mother's talent with potions! Here you are, here you are- one bottle of Felix Felicis, as promised, and use it well!" Slughorn walked away as Harry slipped the vial of golden liquid into his pocket, inwardly dumbfounded.

'That's what everyone was competing for? A bottle of Felix Felicis?' He vaguely recalled reading about it being liquid luck somewhere, but the details were hazy. Harry resolved to find out about it when he had the time.

'It must be a pretty good prize, considering the intent to murder me that's wafting off the Slytherins.' He thought in amusement. He looked at the battered potions book before unobtrusively slipping it into his bag. He was going to look through the pages more thoroughly. Maybe the unknown writer would have additional tips for him.

He walked out when the bell rang, ignoring the glares of the Slytherins, the disappointed look on Ron's face, and the gauging and angry look on Hermione's.

¤

In the Room of Requirement, Harry sat down on a cushion as he stared at the remains of the training dummy he'd been fighting. Black dummy blood was all over the floor, and Harry was splattered head to toe in the stuff. The dummy itself had been totally 'killed', rent from shoulder to hip by a peculiar cutting curse.

In the past month of school, Harry had been avoiding Ron, Hermione, and everyone else like the plague. He'd taken to coming to the Room of Requirement to blow off frustration, try new spells that he learnt from the Half-Blood Prince's book, and practice his rapidly developing wandless magic.

He'd just confirmed what he'd suspected for a while. The Half-Blood Prince had been Dark, or well on his way when he'd written in the potions book. The invented spell Harry'd tried, _Sectumsempra_, proved that to him without a doubt. Harry was glad that he'd had the foresight not to try it on a human first. He shuddered to think what would have happened to the person, regardless of them being an 'enemy'.

Now if he could just find the person with the familiar nearly illegible writing, he could return the book, or at least decide whether or not he should destroy or hide it. As handy as the book was for potions, it certainly didn't belong in a cupboard where young children could happen upon it.

Harry pocketed his yew wand and asked the Room to clean up for him. A moment later and there was no trace of the dummy, on the floor or on himself. He thanked the Room, and in turn the castle, silently.

Harry stretched out his hand and inspected his rings. This room was the only place where he could be free of all glamours. He enjoyed not having to conceal his fangs nor his changed eye color. It was the one room where he could feel totally relaxed in the place he called home.

Letalis seemed to quite enjoy the room too. She could always been seen basking in a patch of sunlight created especially for her.

Harry smiled and stretched. Now that he had the spell filed in his mind-space reserved for 'Dangerous', he could focus on his wandless magic. Concentrating, he tried for the thirtieth time to summon a teacup.

¤

He trudged silently behind the group heading toward the Defense classroom. The Gryffindors were raucous and loud. Harry found that the urge to grab his temples and scream at them to shut up was almost overpowering.

'Why did I choose to become a vampire again? They're all so loud! My ears hurt!' he inwardly cried. Nothing could really be done about it though.

Well, he _could_ threaten them all with very painful deaths, but he didn't think that would go over very well with Dumbledore.

Of course, it didn't go over too well with the Gryffs earlier in the month, when he'd made it perfectly clear that he didn't feel like associating or being bothered. Now they'd decided to ignore him, as 'punishment'. That didn't bother Harry in the least. He preferred it so.

Harry stared absently at the board where Snape was writing instructions for the new non-verbal spell they were learning. The writing looked so familiar…he wondered where he'd seen it before.

The realization came like a bolt from the blue and it left him thunderstruck. Checking to make sure Snape's back was turned, Harry dug out the potions book. A swift comparison was all it took before Harry slid it back into the bag.

He sagged in his chair. He'd already decided to give the book back to the owner if he found him. Now it seemed obvious what to do.

Harry had run through many ideas on the identity of the Half-Blood Prince, but _Snape_? He guessed it should've been apparent. The man _was_ a Potions Master, after all.

¤

He might have relished the moment a bit _too_ much, he admitted upon reflection.

Still, Harry felt gleeful as Snape jumped when the heavy textbook slammed into his desk.

"Potter!" he yelled. "What is the meaning of this?"

Harry kept a straight face under the man's dark glare. He simply jabbed a finger at the text.

"That book shouldn't be left lying around. It could be deadly in the hands of children…_sir_." he responded mockingly.

Snape narrowed his eyes, but in his curiosity finally opened the tattered cover.

_This book belongs to the Half-Blood Prince._

The line apparently jumped out at the man, from the look on his face. The cover shut with a snap.

"Where did you get this?" his voice held angry threats behind it. Harry shrugged.

"Potions class."

Evidently that answer wasn't good enough for Snape. "Ten points from Gryffindor," he snarled.

Harry couldn't help but give him a glance that said 'does it look like I care?' He cursed inwardly as soon as he did.

Snape's eyes narrowed further, giving him a rather predatory look. "You're dismissed, Potter."

Harry left as quickly as possible, hastening through the rows of desks. Only when the classroom door was shut behind him did he allow himself to breath.

"Bugger." Now Snape suspected something.

¤

A/n: Another chapter out so fast! I hope you all enjoyed it. I put in more points of view to add some depth. I promise the time travel next chapter!

Please review!


	6. Shattered Destiny

**Our destinies are not carved in stone. And even so, stones can be shattered…**

¤

Lunch that day started out normally for Harry.

Little did he know how quickly that would change in the space of the next few hours.

He sat in his usual spot, alone on the end of the table closest to the doors. A glance up at the head table told him that Snape wasn't there. Harry shrugged. The man was probably still recovering from their encounter. He didn't really want to think about what DADA classes would be like from now on. He'd definitely presented Snape with a reason not to ignore him anymore.

One of his internal buzzers went off when Ron and Hermione entered the Hall. Unlike they had for the past month, this time, they didn't pass him by.

Harry moaned quietly to himself when they sat down on the bench across from him. He knew his former friends well enough to see this confrontation coming. He still wished it could have waited a few more weeks, though.

Harry pretended to ignore them for a while, continuing to eat the salad that he consumed for human appearance's sake. He discovered a while ago that meat made his stomach feel queasy. The protein from animals apparently upset the balance his blood potion created, so it was best for him to stick with vegetables-

"Harry."

Harry's fork jabbed a tomato harder than necessary. He kept his eyes focused on his plate, savoring the red juice that filled his mouth. 'Maybe if I just ignore them they'll go away," he thought.

"Harry." Hermione persisted.

'Fat chance,' his mind answered him. Exasperated, he looked up at the two.

"What do you want?"

Hermione pursed her lips at his tone. Ron turned red again. Hermione launched into speech. 'Preplanned, from the sound of it,' he mused.

"Harry, we're sorry we didn't tell you about Ron and I dating. We didn't think it was such a big deal! And we worried about you, with Sirius' dying. We didn't want to cause you anymore pain, and we thought you might feel left out. You never talk with us about anything anymore, but we really were going to tell you! We just didn't have the time, and then we couldn't send you letters over the summer-"

Harry interrupted her by holding up a hand. He was well aware that at this point nearly the entire Hall was staring at them, and he resisted rolling his eyes at their predictability.

"Well, certainly covered all the topics, didn't you?" His voice involuntarily slid back into the icy coldness he'd discovered in Knockturn Alley. Hermione blushed at the insinuation that she'd rehearsed the talk. It only proved him correct.

"Number one," he held up a finger, "I'm over _Snuffles'_ death. I know it's not completely my fault and I've stopped blaming myself for it. Number two," another finger went up. "you never said anything meaningful to me when you _could _write letters, and when you couldn't," he glared specifically at Hermione, "you know there are other ways of communicating."

"Hey! We-" Ron tried to interrupt him, only now discontent with Hermione being their mouthpiece; but Harry talked over him.

"Finally," his voice started loudly but ended softly as he stood away from the table. "I've expected this for a couple of years now. I would have been fine with you two together, if you had _told_ me. But you didn't and it hurts more than you can imagine."

He took in their stunned expressions and the silence of the Hall around them.

"Don't consider us friends anymore, _Granger_, _Weasley_."

Then Harry did what he was quickly becoming adept at, he walked away.

¤

These tears shouldn't be burning his vision. He should be happy if only for himself. No more lies from _them_, at least.

So he forced them back.

Harry was pouring over the copy he'd made of Snape's book (clever Harry, clever), when the expected owl came. He'd already skipped two of today's classes while lounging around in the common room when no one else was around. It was a strange, albeit nice change.

Harry let the insistently tapping owl in. It stuck out it leg with a hoot. As soon as Harry removed the letter it carried, the owl took off without waiting for a reply. He shrugged and read the note:

_Harry,_

_Please come up to my office. We must discuss your behavior as of late._

_Headmaster Dumbledore_

_P.S. I like Acid Pops at the moment._

Closing his eyes, Harry crumpled the note and threw in into the blazing hearth. The last thing he needed right now was to pit himself against the Headmaster's twinkling eyes and prying mind, but after his little outburst in the Hall he'd expected a call sooner or later. He didn't even have Letalis there to comfort him, as she was basking in the Room of Requirement. He moved to the portrait hole.

¤

Harry didn't bother walking down to the Headmaster's office. With a quick check on the Marauders' Map to make sure all was clear, Harry's body dissolved before reappearing at the entrance. 'This is why I love Flicking.' he thought as he spoke the password to the gargoyle. 'It's disorientation-free, soundless, and I'm able to do it on Hogwarts grounds!'

"Acid Pops."

With a grating of stone that hurt his ears the statue leapt aside. Rubbing both earlobes, Harry stepped onto the winding staircase. It carried him upward until he reached Dumbledore's door, where it deposited him safely. Before his knuckles could so much as brush the wooden door, Dumbledore called him in.

'He must have a proximity ward or something.' Harry thought. 'He always seems to know when someone's here.'

He strode into the office, trying to appear confident before the aging wizard. As he looked around Harry was please to note that several of the whirring silver objects he'd broken last year were no longer on the shelves. 'At least I did something right that day.'

The white-bearded wizard smiled, looking for all the world like a kindly old man. All around them the portraits of past Headmasters and Mistresses pretended to slumber. He didn't know why the bothered.

"Please take a seat, my boy." Harry's face instantly morphed into cold stone, even as he sat.

"I am not _your boy_, Headmaster. I would appreciate if you would stop calling me that."

For a moment Dumbledore said nothing, then slowly nodded. "Sherbert Lemon?" asked the man, gesturing to a small bowl of yellow hard candies. Harry eyed them warily and shook his head. He had no idea what was in them and he didn't want to chance it.

"What was it you wanted to talk to me about, Professor?" he asked stiffly. Dumbledore sighed and folded his hands in front of him.

"Harry, I am concerned with the relationship between you and your friends. I could not help but notice you are having a hard time getting along."

'Yeah, you and everyone else in the bloody school.' Harry scoffed. Out loud he said, "It's nothing to be concerned with, sir. They have just been keeping secrets from me is all."

"Ah, but have you not also been keeping a rather large secret from them?" Dumbledore gazed at him over half-moon spectacles, but Harry adamantly refused to meet his eyes. He fixed his own at a point past the man's shoulder. Harry could feel his spine becoming rigid from sitting straight for so long.

"If you're talking about the prophecy, you advised that I should keep it from them, sir." He remembered one of his previous conversations with the Headmaster last year.

Dumbledore sighed. "That was only advice, Harry. I believe you should tell your friends about it, in apology. They will be able to help you through this."

Harry was hard pressed not to glare. "It's them who should be apologizing to me! They never told me about their getting together, even when they had the chance!"

"Now, Harry, you need to listen to reason-"

"And another thing! You've been keeping things from me too! You didn't even bother to tell me about the prophecy for over five years!"

"I gave you my reasons for it. You weren't ready to be burdened at so young an age."

"And how would you know? You left me with the Dursleys until I was eleven. How would you have any idea what I was like?"

Dumbledore's eyes had lost their usual twinkle by now. "I have explained this to you before, Harry. You needed to be left to grow up as a normal child would, and under the protection of the wards your mother's sacrifice created for you."

The man was exceptionally calm as usual, and it was just making Harry more infuriated. This conversation was taking one turn after another, and he had no idea how it would end.

"Screw the sacrifice! The only reason my mother's even dead is because of a prophecy made by an all time phony that just happened to make one true prediction! All it has led to are my parent's deaths, Sirius, Cedric, and hundreds more dying, staying with a family that hated me, and being forced to lie to my friends! How can you just stand there and say that?!" Harry was left gasping after saying it all in one breath. This talk was going more between the lines with every word they spoke.

"This is your destiny, Harry! You are the only one able to kill Voldemort because of the prophecy! You must realize the duty you have to the world. You must fulfill it for the people all counting on you to save them! Your friends are included!" The Headmaster's face was neutral, but his tone sparked with powerful anger. The dark mutters of the portraits could be heard around them, but they didn't interfere.

Harry was not intimidated, and he showed it by slamming his hands on the desk. He didn't care about the marks his inhuman strength left. He met Dumbledore's blue gaze directly now.

"Damn destiny! My destiny is what I choose it to be. I will not have some _sordid little poem _dictating how I live my life! Nor will you be," he finished, voice radiating a creeping chill. Harry could feel a niggling brush at his barriers, and he smashed it away with much more force than necessary.

"Stay out of my mind!" he snarled. He stood and ran to the exit. Fawkes was absent from his golden stand nearby.

Harry tried to yank the door open, but growled when it stayed firmly shut. He turned back to the Headmaster, who was looking at him with a small amount of satisfaction.

"Let me out!" he roared. This was particularly reminiscent of last year.

Albus shook his head. "Not until you calm down enough to see reason, my boy."

"I'm warning you-" Harry barely had the holly wand out of his pocket before it was ripped from his grasp and landed in Dumbledore's.

At the moment he didn't care. All of his senses were screaming 'Danger! Danger!' He turned back and pressed a palm to the door. In less than a second shards of wood were blown everywhere, hardly harming Harry but forcing Dumbledore to create a shield with his own wand.

When the Headmaster was finally able to see through the dusty debris strewn about, there was no sign of the boy anywhere.

¤

Hogwarts was frantically trying to calm her raging child in the Room of Requirement. He was blowing up provided vases and dummies up left and right, with his yew wand and without. He was even throwing daggers and other numerous weapons around. Harry desperately had to blow off some steam and Hogwarts was providing all she could for that. She knew the Headmaster was searching for him, and she kept the Room carefully hidden.

There was no way Dumbledore was going to _touch_ her child after what he'd said to make him like this.

Meanwhile, Harry was issuing laments between the strikes he dealt to the battle dummies.

"Why, why, WHY?" he asked the air. Another dummy down in a gush of blood. "Why does it have to be this way?!" A borderline illegal spell sent yet another tumbling to the stone floor. "Why do I have to be weighed down by fate and destiny! Why doesn't Dumbledore listen?!"

As the last mannequin went down, so did he. Harry sank to the floor, his feelings spent. "Why can't I just be happy?" the last was but a breath.

Hogwarts looked down on her charge with sadness. He still hadn't said the right words. Still she could not help. A couch popped up in the corner along with a fireplace, at the same time as the dummies disappeared. Harry dragged himself over to it, taking off his sneakers before sinking into the plush cushioning. After a few minutes his eyes started to drift shut. He spoke again to himself, barely a mumble.

"At least I have Hogwarts, but…I just wish this…_I_ could be happier."

Finally, he drifted off to sleep.

Hogwarts, however, was ecstatic. He'd made _wish_. That changed everything.

Through the darkness outside, a cold new moon was rising invisibly in the sky. Her power stirred throughout her walls, towers, and dungeons as she gathered it up. She would need to rip the fabric of something that _shouldn't be_, yet was _supposed_ to be torn. A bright, iridescent passageway opened nearby, while Harry slept on, unaware.

Hogwarts gently stroked his mind, tenderly brushing away the cobwebs of the bonds he held to this time.

When he returned, for he _would_, she knew, they would reassert themselves. For now she left only two. One glowed gold, and it was his strong bond to her. The other was equally potent and held great power.

It glowed an eerie green to her not-really-sight.

Hogwarts smiled as tendrils of her magic lifted him through the tear in time, tying him there to the other side. A milk white snake saw what was happening and hurriedly followed.

His wish was granted, and now she had but to wait for her sons to return to her.

¤

Voldemort paced about his bedroom. He cursed his inability to remain still.

Emotions ran rampant through him, most especially for the last few months. Even his Deatheaters had noticed his moods fluctuating more than usual. His attacks on magical and muggle populace were fewer, but harsher than ever before. Voldemort's temper was short-fused. The Deatheaters that failed in their tasks were kept under Crucio for longer periods. They became even more hesitant when delivering reports, fearing his retribution for even the most minor incursion.

Voldemort had no idea what was wrong with himself. He had Severus working hard with all manner of Calming Draughts and potions, but to no avail. He'd even compared the mood swings to going through puberty again.

"At seventy, I better not be." he growled to himself. It was a rather useless thought to ponder, so he dismissed it. He whirled to face to other wall of his sanctum, fingering the chained ring around his neck. If he let them, the memories it incurred would wash over his thoughts, forcing him to relive that secret pleasure and pain.

He would never wear it upon his finger again. When Voldemort received it so long ago, his fingers were thicker and fleshy, not the pale, bony extensions they had become. The ring would no longer fit him, and Voldemort didn't have the heart to alter it.

'Doesn't have the heart,' he sneered at himself. 'That's right. The Dark Lord has no heart.'

¤

When Harry next awoke, it wasn't with the suddenness usually induced by his nightmares. Instead it was a gradual drifting from the real of sleep into waking, side effect of feeling safe and secure.

Then he found _it_. A letter that altered everything he thought was true…

_My dearest child,_

_You may not believe what you are about to read, but I assure you that you will soon. Your beautiful familiar can confirm what I write. All I ask is the calmness I know you possess, just for the moment._

_You may be wondering who I am. I am the being you call Hogwarts and your home. My mind and heart beat through these walls around you. I have watched you for all time. Your are one of my precious children and I only want for your happiness. _

_The Headmaster is not my child. He has made you angry and sad. He has influenced you into things you would never have done alone. Only I have truly seen the extent of his corruption by the Light, and soon you will have to realize._

_You made a wish. Without it I could not have acted. _

_I have sent you through a rip in the time continuum. You are now fifty-two years in the past. _

_Think before you act. This is your chance to be **happy**. You may live without the weight of your titles and name. You may truly become Aspen Noir, a home schooled transfer to Hogwarts school. Nothing of the boy-who-lived can reach you here. _

_A letter had been sent to the current Headmaster, Armando Dippet. It is penned by your Aunt asking permission to transfer here, as home schooling is no longer safe because of the growing danger of Grindelwauld. _

_Dippet has already replied with an affirmative that you will soon recieve. You are to be on the Hogwarts Express on Sept. First and you will be sorted after the first years. You have until then to create your back story. _

_I have done what I can. If you wish to stay is up to you. I wish to tell you a few things before I end this letter._

_I know you are a vampire that cannot die. However, the magic binding you too this time is tied to you life energy and very delicate. If you should come into a situation where a human would die, the rush of your blood powers to save you would snap all bonds to this time, and you will be sent back. Please do be careful._

_Remember that no matter how your blood changes, you will always be yourself inside. There will always be people that love you and come to love you. Never forget that, or you will lose yourself._

_This is destiny lain before you. Tread the path it creates, or make you own. It is and will forever be your choice._

_You have my love,_

_Hogwarts_

It was on his knees that Harry ended the letter. His mind failed to comprehend what was written. This was the chance he'd waited for, for so long, given to him by the very castle he thought of as home. He really did want to believe this letter. All he needed was a tiny bit of earth-shattering proof to accept the truth…

"_T-tempus_," he stuttered. The air in front of him lit up, spelling the date in neon green letters and numbers.

**August 30th, 1942. 5:34 a.m.**

"I have two days."

He grinned like he hadn't in weeks. "That should be enough time."

If Harry was surprised at Hogwarts being alive, he didn't register it. Whatever type of sentience she had, the castle was still home to him.

Going back in time didn't really surprise him either. He'd done it before. It was just going so very _far_ back that sent his head spinning.

Harry looked around the room. Over on the couch where he'd awoken, Letalis was sulking about being ignored. In the corner he was astounded to see his trunk. On top of it sat Hedwig in her cage, one wing tucked over her head. He couldn't stop smiling, and put the parchment in his pocket for safe keeping.

"So, I can live here forever as long as I don't get 'killed'."

He was going to have to alter his appearance and a number of other things before coming back. 'May as well get started.'

-Letalis,- his hissed, coaxingly.

-What isss it?- her tone was pouting.

-Would you like to go somewhere? If you stop ignoring me I promise you two juicy rabbits.- He offered her an arm to climb.

She was quiet for a moment, then sighed. Her form shifted, becoming smaller as she wrapped her way up his arm and settled on narrow shoulders.

Harry grabbed his trunk and Hedwig's cage.

-Three rabbitsss.-

He laughed lightheartedly as he Flicked them away.

¤

A/n: Another chapter, where he finally traveled! I know it's not much, but I extend a great thanks to all my reviewers for their wonderful comments, especially the ones that help me with Harry's wayward personality.

On that note, would anyone be willing to beta for me when I get out the next few chapters? And if I like your work, maybe the entire story? I'd love some story construction _before_ I post the chapters :D

Please review! I love fresh opinions.


	7. Behind His Morals

_How fool is man-_

_That he among us all has the choice-_

_Between the Dark and Light-_

_Good and evil-_

_And yet he cowers-_

_Behind his morals._

¤

In the room at the Leaky Cauldron that he'd rented for the next two nights, he was examining himself.

Harry'd had to change his appearance less than he'd thought to achieve the desired results. He'd decided to search out a charm to grow his hair a little more, but that was harder than it first seemed. It was finally in _1001 Witch's Household Spells _that he found a charm. Harry tried very hard not to blush when the female book clerk scrutinized him. As soon as the book was paid for (he kept some gold in his trunk), he'd left very quickly.

Trying to forget his embarrassment, Harry muttered the hair lengthening charm and envisioned how he wanted the length to be. Standing before the mirror, he watched as his jet black locks slowly crept down his back. He finally stopped the growth when it swept a few inches past his shoulder blades. No longer would he have to worry about the flyways he'd had even when it'd been chin length. Harry scrutinized his hair closely.

'Should I change the color?' After a few moments debate he decided not to. With a few other alterations no one would recognise him as a Potter, and besides, he was vainly attached to his raven hair, red streaks included.

After that was done, he couldn't decide what else to alter. An eyebrow that twitched in annoyance made him think of something, so with another spell he shaped them, making his brows thinner and higher. Overall, he now looked much more aristocratic.

With a final thought, his Death colored eyes gave way to familiar light-destroying gold. The few changes had given him a completely different look, more like the Lord his rings told him to be, than the scruffy boy he'd been.

Checking to make sure his glamours were still up, Harry looked back to the mirror a final time.

"Perfect," he beamed.

¤

Tom Marvolo Riddle was a strange set of contradictions.

He was a loner in his own right and always had been, and still he surrounded himself with a Slytherin social base and a spy network. He was born and raised a muggle orphan, yet he had power none of the others in his year, not even the Seventh Year Minerva McGonagall, could match. The entire house knew of his half-blood heritage, yet outwardly he disdained the Mudbloods and muggles, so they learned to leave him alone on the issue.

Tom did not live an easy life. He had to be vicious and calculating, but able to persuade sweetly. He knew subconsciously not to grow to close too anyone. If even one person found out his secrets, including his research on the phenomena called Horcruxes, it would spell his end.

Tom had to keep up the image expected of a Slytherin Prefect; bullying Hufflepuffs, slandering and getting Gryffindors into trouble, and just ignoring the Ravenclaws.

Still, as hard as all these deceptions and ploys were to balance, it wasn't as though he didn't _want_ to. No, he reveled in the feeling of a plot well laid and plans brought to fruition. Tom could spend hours thinking of the perfect course of action for any move he wanted to make. He knew where every piece on the board lay and how to move it to his advantage. The only player that ever gave him real trouble was Dumbledore, but Tom had learned to avoid the man easily enough.

Still, all of this careful organizing didn't make the Prefects' Meeting any less boring.

Tom looked out the window, resisting the urge yawn, or curse the Head Girl, or something else decidedly socially unacceptable to her.

Minerva was a very stern woman, and when it came to the meetings she always felt the need to lay down the ground rules again. He might still have gotten on with the girl, if it weren't for the fact she was such a stickler for rules, and in Gryffindor.

Beside him sat the female Slytherin prefect, Seline Clearwater. Tom watched with amusement as her nostrils widened slightly when she struggled not to yawn. Clearly he wasn't the only one being bored to death.

In good Slytherin fashion, Tom resisted sighing in relief when she finished her speech. Nearly half the train ride had been eaten up by the meeting, and now it was finally over.

Tom left the crowded compartment (spelled to fit all the prefects) and walked to the back of the train. His Slytherin cohorts were expecting him to join them eventually, but after being in such a crowded environment for so long he needed space. His paranoia was not made easy by being surrounded so.

Every compartment he passed had at least two people in it. If Tom never found an empty one he could always kick someone out of theirs, but he preferred not to bother.

The last compartment at the back of the train held only one person. Tom was about to turn back and find a better spot when he stopped.

The boy in the compartment looked to be his age, maybe a year younger, but Tom had never seen him before. Something about this person commanded attention, and he couldn't tear his eyes away from his poised form.

Most of the boy's skin was hidden by dark gray clothing, but elegant pale fingers seemed to embrace the book he held before his face. A ponytail of silky black hair ran down his back, not hiding a silver runic earring that swayed with the motion of the train. Tom could make out a small nose poked into the tattered book. From what he could make of the title, it was an old copy of _Advanced Potion Making. _

'Who is this, I wonder?' the sight of the boy in repose mesmerized him for another moment, before he shook himself. 'Stop it, Tom. This isn't like you.'

Quickly making up his mind, Tom rapped sharply on the glass door. The other boy looked up at him, a slight widening of liquid gold eyes being the only facial expression. Tom wondered about the eyes. They seemed familiar for an inexplicable reason. He shrugged it off for the moment. Maybe the boy had the blood of a magical creature that Tom had read about at some point, somewhere back in his line. It wasn't entirely unheard of for purebloods, and Tom wouldn't know unless he asked.

"May I come in? Everywhere else is full," he said politely.

He didn't know who this boy was yet, and it was best to start on his good side. The boy's face went from glacial to contemplating before he nodded.

"Take a seat," he said in a rich tenor voice.

It took all of Tom's many years of reading people to see the other's tense posture, even though he appeared incredibly tranquil. 'He's already wary of me? Might he have heard something?…'

He took the moment of sitting down time to asses him. It required barely any magical concentration to feel the air of power the other held. It licked at his senses, drawing him into a fold of barely tangible darkness. The power called his magic forth subtly, offering what almost seemed like comfort. He ruthlessly squashed his magic before it could connect.

'This, this is someone shadowed,' Tom thought. 'He's incredibly powerful. Maybe a spy sent by Lord Grindelwald?' his mind supplied. 'If he is, he could become a great asset. It's the perfect opportunity for the Dark Lord to notice you! You just have to figure out a way…'

Surprisingly, it wasn't he who started out the introductions.

"Hello, my name's Aspen Noir. I'm a transfer student. Who are you?" Aspen asked, marking his page with a finger.

"I'm Tom Riddle, seventh year Slytherin," Tom settled back into his seat, whereas Aspen had still not relaxed in the slightest. "A transfer student? We haven't had many of those. What school are you from?"

Aspen didn't seem surprised at his curiosity. "Yes, my Aunt requested the transfer. I'm actually home schooled, but she thinks it's too dangerous with Grindelwald gaining power, so she sent me here. What about you? What's the House of Slytherin like?" he asked nonchalantly, seeming uninterested.

Tom though of a suitable reply for a moment. "Well, I guess you could say that Slytherin is different from other Houses, not including the hearsay of the entire House being evil," he sneered. Really, only three quarters of the House were Dark, which qualified as 'evil' to any Light wizard. And half of _them_ had been driven Dark by the Light after being sorted. "It's every man for himself in there."

"Of course, it's not like that's different from anywhere else," Aspen interjected. Tom was taken aback for a moment, then he smirked.

"I think we can learn to get along, Noir."

He offered a hand in a sincere treaty. If he could get this powerful boy on his side, then who knew the possibilities!

Aspen paused for a moment, metallic eyes flickering to his stoic face, evaluating him. Finally he returned the smirk, though it appeared rather strained. He grasped Tom's offered hand and shook it firmly.

"Agreed, Riddle." Then he stood up. "If you'll excuse me for a moment, I need to use the privy," he said courteously. Aspen left when Tom nodded, his long legs carrying him swiftly away.

Tom sat in silence for several moments, contemplating Noir.

This new player was a total enigma, a very powerful one that Tom did not yet know how to manipulate. From the very short conversation they'd had, however, Tom could tell he was not entirely adverse to the Dark. Maybe he could become a potential ally… The thought held great merit.

His thoughts were interrupted by a sudden sound above him. He looked up, startled when a slithering noise came near.

Dangling in front of his face was a large scaly head. His eyes met pupiless milk colored ones and he started back into his seat with a sharp cry.

The large snake cocked her head in amusement and her long tongue slid out to taste his scent. Tom calmed marginally when he saw she made no move to strike.

-Who are you?- he asked. She wasn't startled by his voice, unlike most snakes he spoke to were at first.

-The better quessstion isss, who are _you_, sssnake ssspeaker?- she replied. Tom didn't reply for an instant, entranced by the shimmer of her scales in the train lights. He'd always had a fascination with serpents that he attributed to his heritage.

-I am Tom Riddle. May I have your name?- he asked carefully. She was of a breed he didn't recognize, and he didn't really want to know whether or not she was poisonous…from past experiences.

-Ooh, I like you. You're polite, unlike a lot of sssnakesss. My name is Letalisss. My human callsss me that name. Have you ssseen him? He will like you too, if you don't ssstare,- she said. Tom's eyebrows rose nearly to his hairline.

-Is your human named Aspen?-

-Yesss. You've met then? I wasss asleep.-

Tom nodded. -He seemed…interesting. We didn't talk for very long.- He supposed he sounded a little miffed, because Letalis reassured him.

-Don't take it persssonally. He actsss that way with mossst humansss nowadaysss.- She seemed to grow tired of hanging from the storage rack, so she slid down on the seat next to him.

Tom was struck by a sudden thought, and he decided to take a chance and voice it.

-Your human, Aspen…can he speak to you like I can?- he asked eagerly. Letalis simply stared at him for a moment. She cocked her head to the side again.

-Did you know that it's impossible to lie directly in Parseltongue? You may tell half-truths, yes, but not lie,- she trailed off for a second. -Oh! Your anssswer. Aspen…is not a descendant of the human you call Salazar,- Letalis said finally. Tom was about to hiss something back to her when footsteps in the hall alerted them of Aspen's return.

As he stepped into the compartment a voice resounded throughout the train.

"We will be pulling in to Hogsmeade Station in five minutes. Please leave all luggage on the train when you depart," said the regular recording. Tom turned back to Aspen. He wanted very badly to ask him about his snake, seeing as he'd not gotten a straight answer from her, but Aspen was already speaking.

"-need to change into my robes now. It was a pleasure meeting you, Riddle."

Tom's mouth snapped shut with a click, his eyes narrowing. He himself had already changed into his robes, as always.

Aspen held open the door, indicating he wished him to leave. He nodded pleasantly, even though he wished for nothing more than to force answers from him then and there.

"I'll be seeing you." Tom said shortly. He marched out of the compartment, leaving the enigmatic boy and his snake behind.

'You'll answer my questions, Noir. I'll make sure of it.'

¤

Harry knew he was hyperventilating. The closed walls of the privy around him did very little to calm his panicked mind.

He'd done his planning. He'd done the research that he could in the short period of two days. He'd rehearsed what he wanted Aspen Noir to come across as, hoping a quiet demeanor would get him through the next two years of school without much attention drawn to himself, after things settled down. In that time he'd been able to fabricate the right documents to say that he did, in fact, exist. He'd be able to go on and get a job somewhere for the next few years. Aspen would be able to lead a normal life. Well, as normal as an immortal vampire's life could get anyway.

But he'd forgotten the colossal factor of Tom Riddle, along with the fact that he would be in Harry's year at Hogwarts.

The young man looked just like he did in the diary's memory. His curly black hair had a few shades of brown that Harry hadn't noticed in the dim Chamber. He was taller than Harry by only a few inches now, making his facial shape a little different from what he'd been able to see as a puny Second Year, if he'd cared to notice.

But the eyes. The deep forest green eyes had stuck him harshly. They were the eyes of the man who would eventually come to kill his parents, and hundreds of others along the way. The eyes of his would-be murderer.

And yet Harry couldn't bring himself to feel what he knew he should. He should feel hate for him, fear of his presence, and an urge to curse the other into oblivion before he could ruin Harry's future life as he had done. But his emotions were held firmly in check, and Harry had felt nothing, not more than a sense of curiosity and wariness.

His vampire instincts whispered to him, putting out observations in a Noir-like tone. The man was not yet Voldemort. The person he'd seen was Tom Riddle, someone vastly different from the Dark Lord he knew. Hell, Tom was even different from the memory he'd met! What might have changed him, making the young man into the Lord he knew?

Harry's breathing slowed and his heartbeat quieted, his thoughts ordering themselves behind his barriers as he sorted through them. He glanced down at the hand he had shaken the other's with. It didn't feel dirty or soiled from touching Tom, and Harry's glamoured scar hadn't even tingled. Harry hadn't felt completely sullied in his company.

To think that five months ago, the most casual mention of him shaking hands with Tom Riddle would've had Harry cursing a storm on the person who'd suggested it, before carting them off to St. Mungo's for a brain check. He grinned wryly at the thought.

'So maybe you _can_ get along with Tom Riddle. You don't have to be his friend or his enemy. You're in a position where you can sit back and observe with no responsibilities. You can watch what he becomes and fifty or more years from now, when the time is right, _if you want to_, you can kill him.'

Harry had the choice. Whatever path he walked, he had the choice whether or not to turn away. Hadn't Hogwarts herself told him that? He could pick Tom over for every little nuance. He could find out the reasons for all the things that Voldemort had spouted during his 'evil-villain-speeches.' When Harry had heard both sides of the issue, then he would make his decision.

Thoughts now ordered and face completely calm, Harry checked his glamours in the mirror. After being assured that they were still there, Harry left the privy, humming a soothing, familiar tune.

'I will get my answers eventually, Riddle. I'll make sure of it.'

¤

A/n: A gigantic thanks to **Mistress Nika** and **Magicmaker17**, without whom this chapter wouldn't be half as good. Also, I thank everyone who reviewed offering to be a beta. I'm sorry I couldn't accept all of you!


	8. Scars of the Past

A/n: Sorry to any mix-ups anyone might have had. I didn't make things clear enough. Both Harry and Tom are in _Sixth Year_. I was merely say that Tom had more power than the Seventh Year Minerva.

**Warning** for heavily implied child abuse in this chapter.

¤

The cacophony that rose from the students at the table barely touched his carefully spelled ears, but still created an angry buzz in his ear that was rapidly becoming a headache.

The obstreperous behavior of the returning children was even more pronounced with the absence of Headmaster Dippet, who was greeting the 'mysterious new transfer student' at the front door. Albus was doing little to calm the students, instead he sat back in his chair with a benign smile on his face. That man radiated Light from his aura, but something stopped Conner from trusting it. No matter how mature he was supposed to be with his age comparison, that man could really irritate him sometimes…

Conner DeLune heaved a sigh. For some unbelievable, fantastic reason, Toki had convinced him to take up the DADA teaching job again. He didn't know why he'd listened; the considerably younger man was never "quite there", but he supposed that two years at the bottom of the ocean would do that to anybody.

He sighed again. Heavy alcohol intake and Michelle's prodding hadn't been much help either.

Another deep breath had the Healer Kira and her young apprentice Poppy looking at him in concern, but he shrugged off their gazes.

He had every right to expel air if he wanted to! Not needing the oxygen played no factor in it whatsoever, though it was not as if they knew that...

But he was getting off track. The students were being anything but quiet, and Conner was wishing for the thousandth time that he'd turned down the job again. Michelle's arguments that he lacked excitement in his life had affected him, as she'd known they would.

So, after Armando asking for the third time in a row, he'd finally come back to teaching at Hogwarts.

Privately, he thought there should be a sign over the doorway that read, 'Welcome to your Personal Hell.'

The Hall settled down when the Headmaster entered through a door by the Head Table. Armando held up his hands, and silence reigned.

The students knew that something unusual was going on this year. Normally, the Headmaster was present at the Sorting, but he hadn't been there. That was a real tip-off. Plus, the Hat was still sitting out on it's stool. Conner turned his attention back on the man as he began to speak.

"Students of Hogwarts, new and old, welcome to another year of school!" Clapping and cheers followed but soon died. "As you can see, the Sorting Hat has been left out. This year, we have a transfer student for the first time in twenty years. He's been home schooled up to this point, and I hope you all will give him a large welcome!" Armando looked to the side door where a figure stood in the shadows.

Conner trained his senses on the person, just for future reference. Suddenly his eyes widened imperceptibly and he froze in his seat. This transfer student wasn't human, he was a vampire. Not just any vampire either: an _Ancient_! His unmistakable aura gave it away immediately to anyone with experience of the species. The boy had to be newly turned too, to still be so young.

'But who's childe would he be?! I've not heard anything from Michelle about a new childe…!' Immediately confusion made itself evident in his mind.

He waited impatiently for the figure to step into the Hall. If Conner could examine the boy, he would see a recognizable Line Trait somewhere. The Ancients were so few, and each had their own trait that they specifically passed on…

'Who's…who's childe is he?'

The boy took a dramatic step forwards, bringing him to face the stares of the Hall. The boy swung his gaze around, raking through the Slytherins before moving to the Head Table. His stare rested on Dumbledore, then Armando, before finally turning to him.

'Who's childe is he?!'

His eyes met hollow gold, like a reflection of the empty gaze he met in his own mirror every day...

"Noir, Aspen!"

If his heart had been beating, it would have stopped.

'He's…_mine_.'

"SLYTHERIN!"

¤

Noir had never told him that he worked at Hogwarts once.

Harry looked down at his plate. Out of all the stares being sent his direction, he could feel the gold one piercing him most fiercely.

The emotion he'd felt at seeing the other had been overridden by the shock in the other's gaze, along with a clear order to explain the moment he was free. He knew there was no way he'd be able to lie to his ancient vampiric friend. If anything but straight truth came out of his mouth in the other's presence he'd probably be killed on the spot.

Polite clapping was all he'd received for his Sorting, and the Gryffindors had glowered rather nastily. Harry had seated himself under the measuring gazes of his House. After returning Tom's nod, he'd then proceeded to ignore them and focus on his empty golden plate. Up on the Head Table, Dippet was finishing up the announcements.

"Finally, I'm pleased to announce that after a three year break, Professor Conner DeLune has returned to teach Defense against the Dark Arts!" Students in Fourth Year and above started cheering, and Harry looked up in time to see the red haired man take a bow. His mind figured out the name as an alias of Noir's. When it seemed as if the man was turning his gaze to him, Harry looked down.

The First Year Slytherins next to him gaped when food suddenly appeared on platters before them. When the older years looked at him inquiringly he merely raised an eyebrow. Any fool could pick up a _Hogwarts, A History_, after all. He'd be using that explanation a lot over the next week, if he forgot or didn't bother to act surprised by moving staircases and the like.

As Harry picked a few fruit dishes to eat, he surveyed the table for any semblances of a recognizable face. A familiar flash of blond hair and upturned nose helped him spot a Malfoy immediately. He could vaguely recall Draco mentioning him to Slughorn, as Abraxas Malfoy, Draco's grandfather. Sitting next to him was someone he couldn't place for a moment, but when the dark-haired boy's head turned he had to hold back a gasp.

The boy was unmistakably Orion Black, Sirius' father. His face looked almost exactly like his deceased godfather's in profile.

While distracted, he'd failed to notice Tom move a few first years out of the way and sit on the bench opposite him. The other Slytherins turned their eyes away. They knew when the Prefect was around they had better start ignoring him or face his considerable irritation.

"Congratulations on getting into Slytherin. I knew you'd make it."

Aspen turned to Tom.

"Oh really? How did you know I wouldn't be in some other House? Like, say, Hufflepuff?" He was amused at the disgusted face Tom pulled.

"Of the other examples you could have used, you chose Hufflepuff?" he gagged, but soon settled into a more serious composure. "I could tell right away that you weren't meant to go anywhere but Slytherin. You have a certain aura of darkness around you. I know you'll do well with us." Tom smirked, and Aspen raised an eyebrow.

On the inside though, Harry was impressed. 'Sixteen and he can already feel it? But then, this is the man who put sixteen years of memories in a diary. Which brings up another question; had he already created it?'

Harry took a bite of peach cobbler, aware that Tom was waiting for a response.

"It's daunting that you already know that much about me," he met Tom's green eyes. "I hardly believe that this House will welcome me with open arms. I'm well aware that I pose a threat to your careful structure. I also have an aversion to arrogant asses."

Aspen smirked at Tom, unaware of the glee that set his eyes alight. Tom noticed though, and took note of it.

He leaned toward Aspen on his bench, and spoke with a conspiratorial whisper. "I'm afraid you might find quite a few of those around here."

Harry couldn't help the small snort that escaped him, before he changed the subject. They soon fell into a comfortable light talk, ignoring the banter around them. He was amazed at how easily conversation came, considering both of their guarded personalities. But talk they did, mostly of non-consequential things, like popular international Quidditch teams.

Before they knew it, the feast was over. Tom told him that as a Prefect, he had to lead the first years to the dorms.

"Follow the group, and you might not get lost, Noir." It was said in such a way that he couldn't tell if Tom was joking or not. He merely shrugged, then rose to trail after the departing Slytherins.

He froze when a tingle shot up his spine, turning his head minutely to meet a reflected pair of eyes. They narrowed down on him. Harry gave a almost undetectable nod, and the eyes turned away.

He sighed and hurried after the disappearing group. This was going to be along week.

¤

'Of course this would happen,' he reasoned as he stared at the door to his new dorm room. 'Because there is a universal decree that Harry Potter must be inundated by unpredicted events at every moment.'

After third year all Slytherin dorms were split up, on the rational logic that they might try to murder each other in the night if kept too confined. Each dorm room held two people, and their name plates were nailed to the doors each year.

Apparently, there had been an odd number of Sixth Years, but no longer. This year one of the people who usually roomed alone was about to get a new roommate.

Letalis hissed impatiently, wanting to get down. Thankfully though, no one was around to hear it.

Harry pushed open the heavy wooden door, making a mental note to ward it later, if his roommate didn't mind, of course.

In the dim torchlight outside the door, the words _Aspen Noir_ and under it, _Tom Riddle_ were engraved in silver nameplates.

¤

Tom sat huddled on a black and green decorated couch. He was drowning in firelight where he placed himself, a mere meter from the roaring flames of the hearth. He paid no mind to the heat radiating from the fire. The dungeons were dank and cold, but he was more than used to it.

All around him was dark. All the other Slytherins--no matter how excited they'd been to be back at Hogwarts and away from their overbearing Pureblood parents--had settled down eventually. Orion had been the last one to leave the common room. He'd sent Tom a inquiring look but hadn't said anything. The teen was very quiet and unobtrusive, but when angered was a formidable foe, hence Slytherin despite his meeker tendencies.

The fire popped and sparks went flying, though they never lived past the fireproofing charms. Tom sank a little further in his place, allowing for a few moments of relaxation.

For one so accustomed to masks, he shouldn't be surprised at this new person who wore one in his midst. Masks were a part of everyday life for him. What had drawn his attention though was the fact that this newcomer was someone he could barely read.

For those like Gryffindors who didn't even try to hide, Tom could read their faces like open books. The Slytherins were harder, but not impossible. Many of the Slytherin boys he knew well enough to see past any of the ruses they might try to pull.

Noir on the other hand, he could elicit nothing from. It was like prying into a stone wall when the boy drew on his blank face. He'd only been here for a day and already he was frustrating Tom beyond belief!

The scene of half an hour ago replayed in his mind. Tom had gone to his room at a late hour, readying himself for bed. He'd been irritated slightly to see that he had a roommate this year, but then pleased to see that it would be Noir. He would have to take extra precautions with his secrets, but it gave him a better chance at discovering things about the other boy.

He'd pushed open the door, preparing to go to straight to bed, but something interrupted him. On one of the two beds in the room Noir lay twisted among jade sheets. Coiled on top of him, Letalis raised her head to glance at Tom before turning away.

One tiny detail of this scene captivated him beyond discernment. The teen's face held none of the sereness of a peaceful sleeper, nor the tortured expression of one plagued by nightmares. The only phrase that came immediately to mind was-

"Loneliness," Tom jumped at his own voice, not realizing he'd spoken aloud. For just a moment he stared at the boy, expecting haunting eyes to pop open in his presence, but Noir didn't so much as twitch.

He shook his head and turned away. It was far too late to be thinking such stirring thoughts. After a final check on some of his sustained spells, he let himself fall into the realm of sleep.

¤

Tom awoke later the next morning to a heavy sense of foreboding. Opening his eyes, he tried to shake the feeling, but a looming cloud still seemed to linger above his head. A quick tempus charm later told Tom that he had exactly forty-five minutes before the start of breakfast. That startled Tom a little bit. He usually woke up much earlier than that to take his morning shower. A quick mental process told him that his internal alarm clock must have been thrown off from staying up so late.

Tom glanced over at Noir's bed to see the other was long gone. He wondered for a moment where he would have gone to when he didn't know his way around.

'That idiot, Dippet must have called him up to see how he's "settling in."'

Tom pulled out a new set of school robes and underclothing from his trunk and gathered it up before heading out to the bathroom. As he'd predicted, the Sixth Year boy's bathroom was deserted. Abraxas had already been in and out, primping his blond hair and pale skin in an almost girl-like fashion. Orion always saved his showers for evenings.

'He spends his mornings hanging out with that girl he's courting, Walburga.' Tom couldn't be bothered to remember her last name, coming from a low ranking pureblood family as she did.

The other two boys, Nex Zabini and Liam Nott couldn't be bothered to get up in the morning, and so spent the last minutes before breakfast rushing around like headless chickens. Tom smirked at the thought as he activated the built in locking wards for the bathroom door. Now assured of his privacy Tom stripped down to his skivvies and turned the shower on. When it was warm enough he took off the boxers and stepped in.

The searing water was like ambrosia itself. Hard droplets drummed a constant pattern on his shoulders, massaging muscles he hadn't even known ached. Tom grabbed a bar of soap and lathered it up before cleaning himself. He shivered when he ran over certain patches of skin, in spite of the hot water. The first heated water he'd had all summer.

Pale hands traced not-so-invisible lines over his chest, fingers trembling infuriatingly as they did every time. These were the times when he couldn't control himself, where memories flooded from a decade ago flooded back.

"_You're worthless and you always will be…an abomination…freak…oddity…" _

Tom had to keep such tight control on his memories.

_Such terror had he felt then._

Finally deeming himself clean enough to be presentable, he stepped out of the shower. Like always, Tom told himself to ignore the mirrors in favor of donning his clothes as quickly as possible and, like always, his eyes seemed to have a mind of their own.

Fingers followed close behind as he mapped the numerous scars that ran across his back, chest, and upper arms. There was always one group of the disfigurements that he could never stop himself from touching. The thin, raised white lines that branched horizontally across his chest.

This would be one of the most inopportune moments of his life for someone to walk in.

"Riddle?!"

Tom spun in shock, mind temporarily on the lock down.

"I know I locked that door."

Another gasp didn't leave him time to be grateful for the towel wrapped around his waist. Someone had _seen_, seen one of his greatest secrets!

There was no option for obliviation, and no stunners could be sent, for his wand was back in the dorm.

'How could you be so _stupid_!?' he berated himself. The other was backing out now, widened eyes fixed on the spot he'd let no one see before. Then the other was leaving without saying a word, the door closing silently behind him.

Tom couldn't move, couldn't speak, couldn't breath.

Noir had glimpsed a darkened side of him that he'd so desperately tried to hide. He'd seen the one true scar that Tom carried hidden on his soul.

The word MONSTER adorned the tender flesh of his torso, expanding in lines from shoulder to ribcage.

But...there had been no disgust or hatred in those eyes, only astonishment.

Even fifty years later, for all his mastery of the mind, this was one memory Voldemort could never wipe away.

¤

A/n: Things also might be going a little too fast for some people. That's because I want to finish this story before I get tired of writing it. It's happened before, and that's just annoying to both me and the readers. Many a thanks on this chapter to **Dream Killer** and **Eli Jeli**!

Please review!

--つらいの死


	9. Uh, There's This Small Problem

**"Everyone has a secret the world knows not, and sometimes we call a man cold, when he is only sad."**

¤

Hogwarts knew that what she'd done could be considered bad. Her poor Tom had tried so _hard _to hide his scars, after all.

But…she just couldn't let her child so utterly destroy himself.

Tom had been alone all his life, no matter what he might say of his allies in Slytherin. He knew perfectly well that they would turn on him in a second if offered power. He sorely needed someone who would listen and understand, if not sympathize. He needed someone to stand beside him so that he would not utterly lose his hold on life. Tom needed someone who would teach him not to see the marks as disfigurements, but rather just another part of him.

Harry, though he didn't realize it, also needed an anchor. He'd only just lost his ties to his time, and didn't yet realize how much he _needed_ them. This would be a true test of his inner strength, staying here.

Locking wards were absolutely _nothing _for her to disable.

She'd known in that instant that Harry had no idea what he was walking in on. Now it was up to the two children to clean up the aftermath.

Hogwarts huffed wearily and sat back to watch the future unfold.

¤

Harry's mind was working furiously as he paced silently to the Great Hall.

He'd known that Tom must have secrets. Last year he'd killed a girl with a basilisk, after all. The castle was still damp from the dregs of fear left behind.

This wasn't a secret he ever would have guessed. Even that small glimse he'd had of Tom in the bathroom had been enough to convice him that there was much more to know about him than he'd ever understood before.

Those lines he'd seen were obviously very old, from when he was a little kid, maybe. Harry knew enough of scars to tell. His left arm was even now adorned with the jagged mark of a foul blood ritual, and his right bore a round piece of tissue that had never fully healed of the deadly venom injected into it. His hand still bore shiny pink lines that read '_I must not tell lies'_, though along with his lightning scar it was concealed behemoth a glamour.

He knew enough to see that at least half of them couldn't have been self-inflicted, as they were present on his back. Harry'd been too surprised to notice much more than that, but the **word **and expression written across Tom had been more than enough. He'd stumbled onto a secret--he was going to have to be careful.

Harry already knew Tom Riddle well enough to realize that he should be chary of his own safety, if not his life. This was a precarious game he was starting to play, and it'd just gotten more treacherous.

When Aspen finally arrived in the Great Hall he simply collected his schedule from his Head of House--who to his surprise turned out to be Horace Slughorn--and left without eating. The only price he would have to pay for it would be a few more drops of blood potion to stave off hunger pains later in the week.

Right now he had a free period of time, and needed to take his mind off of the mystery that was Tom.

Harry knew just the person to do that.

¤

Any observant person who stepped into his office would immediately see his preference for little to no sunlight. Dark black curtains thickly swathed each window, and candelabras burned dimly, for appearance's sake.

Conner leaned back in his squashy desk chair, relaxing before his classes would begin with a frenzy. Luckily his lesson plans were already complete, because all he'd been thinking of was the new Ancient he'd encountered last night and he had no time to work.

There was absolutely no way to fake the power or utter darkness of an Ancient aura; few humans or otherwise even knew of their species' existence. It was possible to copy the Line Traits, but not in such a way that it was undetectable to his senses. Nor was the boy's look of shock upon seeing him faked in any way.

And after many hours of pondering, his mind had come to only one remotely logical conclusion.

'Time traveler.'

And it really was plausible in today's wizarding world. The wizards were meddling in ways to bend time and space around them, trying to break the known laws of reality, but there were countless unknown laws that they would never discover.

Such as what has been done can never be undone. Ever.

He didn't need his proximity wards to feel the person standing behind the door.

"Enter," he said shortly, choosing to fall into his more natural French accent, rather than his careful British one. Conner watched with slight respect as the wards were skillfully parted, though they were by far weaker than the strongest ones he was able to produce.

The boy walked in, and he could see the turmoiled emotions his aura projected. Despite those, the boy seemed genuinely glad to see him. Conner motioned for the child to stand before he desk. For now, he ignored the faint shimmers that were the tell-tale signs of intricate glamours.

The boy wasn't meeting his eyes. He seemed to find the plain wooden floor spellbinding. Conner frowned. He couldn't keep calling the young Ancient boy, even in his mind.

Conner spoke first. "What is your name?"

"Aspen Noir," the boy answered in a flat tone, not looking up. Conner scowled, his patience running thin. He could only wait so long. They both knew that he knew the boy's secret, so why was he withholding his simple name?

"No, boy. Your real name!" he barked, hoping for a reaction.

Twinned eyes snapped up to meet his own, and he immediately regretted his harshness when a flicker of pain shoot through the youngster's wide orbs before disappearing.

"It's…the name you gave me."

That whisper struck him with the severity of a blow. Could he really have cared so much for the boy, to name him? Naming was sacred in all magical races.

A warm feeling that he usually associated with Michelle and Toki filled him, and the barest of fanged smiles fell into place. Maybe he could grow to understand this child.

"Remove your glamours and sit down." This time the curtness was gone, replaced by smooth consonants. Aspen gave him one unknowingly rare, brilliantly hopeful smile, and sat. He eliminated the illusions with a small flick of his wand. The disappearance of the glamours also gave way to a jagged scar, pointed teeth, and several rings. Not the least of which was an exact copy of the one he wore on his own finger, that read _Sang de Nuit_ on it's inside circlet. Conner immediately recognized the wand as one of Michelle's creations. The thinness of the rod was one that only she could produce.

'So she is still around then, at least.'

"You don't know how glad I am to see you again, Noir."

"I trust that I shall soon be able to say the same. Now, Aspen, tell me what you can about how you came to this time."

¤

He had been avoiding interacting with the boy all day, and the other had done the same with him.

Now, as Tom trudged silently along the dungeon halls, he found himself dreading potions for the first time.

The intial shock--that had lasted through his first and second classes of the day-- had worn off, leaving him feeling drained and irritable. Tom had declined both Nex's and Liam's offers to walk with him, preferring the dark solitude as he slowly made his way to the Potions classroom.

-Oh, Tom you're here! Have you ssseen my human?- the questioning hiss startled him, causing him to turn too quickly and fall to the the floor. Letalis hissed in amusement. Tom glared darkly at her. He was definitely not in the best of moods.

Letalis ignored him however. -Ssso, tell me. Have you tried to lie in Parssseltongue yet? It'sss most amusssing, that the creature that humansss think ssspoutsss only liesss can ssspeak not but the truth.-

In the time she was speaking Tom had picked himself up off the ground. He made to walk away, but she blocked the corridor between them. Tom growled quietly, then sighed. He still had no idea as to the potential danger Letalis could present to him, so it might be best if he just played along with her.

He took a moment to think.

-You are able to tell lies in Parsel…- he stopped abruptly as the rest of the word refused to come out. The utterance felt as though it had lodged itself in his throat. Tom looked at the snake and saw her watching him with a pleased expression.

-You sssee? That wasssn't ssso hard.- Before he could reply she departed, leaving Tom muttering darkly to himself in Snake as he walked the halls, testing her account further. Aspen Noir had been driven from his thoughts for the moment.

¤

Letalis was waiting for him in the corridor around the corner from the Potions classroom.

-I ssspoke with Tom again.- Then she quietly informed him of what had just occurred.

When she finished, Harry asked, -Did you give away that I can speak Parseltongue also?-

Letalis shook her head as she settled under his robes. -You asssked me not to, ssso I didn't. I think it would be a good idea though. Now he knowsss you cannot lie in thisss language, you can gain hisss trussst back.- Harry nodded and re-adjusted the bag hanging from his shoulder. He wondered distantly why he cared enough to try and apologize, but couldn't find a solid reason.

By the time he reached the classroom five minutes early, half the class was already there. Professor Slughorn was nowhere in sight and Tom was sitting on the far side of the room, not quite detached from the Slytherins but not in the hub of their group either. He'd left that position to Abraxas Malfoy and Liam Nott. The rest of the room was filled by a mix of the other three houses. Apparently few enough people had gotten into NEWT potions that they only needed one class period.

Aspen hesitated for a moment, but with Letalis' reassuring hiss he mustered all his resolve and went over to sit next to Tom. The other Slytherins looked up when he passed but didn't stare after him. They'd lost interest in the new student already, as he'd shown nothing remarkable about himself in their other classes. Soon he would be just another faceless classmate, lost among their pureblood politics and intrigue. That suited Harry just fine. It was easier to get along in Slytherin if he didn't draw attention to himself.

Harry set his bag gently on the table. Tom turned in his chair and stared at him with cold, blank eyes. Harry nearly flinched at the lack of feeling he saw in them. There was no way that could be healthy. He had no clue just how often he, himself had draw on that look.

Harry looked around, and saw the others still had their eyes decisively turned away. He didn't know the measures Tom'd gone through to ensure his own privacy. If you'd caught Tom's interest, everyone else stayed _away_.

He sat down on the wooden chair and turned to Tom. By now the taller boy was looking elsewhere, which surprised Harry. He was sure the other would be making death threats as soon as he entered his general vicinity.

-I'm sorry,- he hissed near silently, so none of the room's other occupants could hear. Harry watched as Tom's shoulders tensed, obviously recognizing the stressed S's of Parseltongue. -The door was unlocked and I did not mean to walk in on you. I will tell no one, and I won't ask questions. -

Tom's entire posture was stiff, disbelieving and shocked. Harry waited for his words to sink in, along with the fact that there wasn't any way he could be lying. He really, genuinely wanted to get along with the wavy-haired boy.

Tom's hands were gripping his chair so hard, Harry knew if he'd been doing the same he would've already disintegrated the wood. Suddenly his hands relaxed, and he slowly turned to meet his eyes.

-I will accept your apology,- he hissed back quietly. -if you tell me who you are.-

Harry stayed silent for a moment, his mind scrambling for some kind of answer. He finally settled on cryptic.

-That's not something easily answered. I am Aspen Noir, not a natural Parseltongue. I guess the rest will be for me to know and you to pry, snoop, and spy for.- This time is was he who offered the hand in truce. The other looked at it with narrowed eyes.

'Of course he doesn't trust me yet.'

But Tom took his hand and shook it firmly, just as Professor Slughorn entered the room. Harry sat back in his chair and turned his eyes forward. Just like every other teacher, Slughorn was probably going to test where he was when it came to the subject. Harry sighed quietly, ignoring the prickles he felt from Tom staring at him. It was going to be a long day.

¤

Weeks seemed to pass in an instant, and still Tom had not gotten anything more from Noir. It seemed that the other was a master at avoiding questions, just as he was. He knew the boy had a secret even more than speaking Parseltongue, but he didn't know what it was.

He'd tried asking Letalis, but the snake was so strange and obscure that he never got a straight answer from her.

Orion once asked quietly as to why he was so interested in the boy, but Tom simply brushed him off. Black had no right to pry into his business, and he knew it. Besides, Aspen didn't seem particularly concerned with socializing with anyone but him and Letalis, which Tom found not unusual for a Slytherin. Some of his house never spoke outside of class. It was just the way things were.

Things fell into a comfortable rhythm between them. They both kept to their own routines, namely Tom burying his nose in some research project or leaving to pry information out of a fat professor, and Aspen coming back to their room sweaty and tired, with neither of them ever asking about it.

But for Tom, even with the other's promise of secrecy, the advantage Aspen had with knowing so much about him seemed to hang over his head like some half-departed ghost. All of that changed two months later…

¤

There were no windows in the dungeons, and so there was no sunlight to indicate morning. Students of Slytherin learned quickly to rise on time at daybreak or, failing that, to set a tempus alarm.

Tom strictly ensured that he woke early each morning to give himself enough time to shower out of pure habit. He stopped suddenly when he noticed a immobile figure on the opposite bed, still fast asleep.

'Strange. He would usually be gone by now.' Aspen disappeared somewhere every morning, and Tom had still not managed to find out where. He could see the other's long hair poking out from where he'd buried his head under the blanket. Tom glanced at his own bed. He smirked evilly. Suddenly he had this urge…

Aspen leapt up with a yelp when a pillow smacked into his head. His legs became tangled in the sheets and he fell to the floor with a crash. The normally rather graceful boy scrambled up, cursing and sputtering.

Tom found it highly amusing to watch. It was significantly harder to remain stoic when the red faced male grabbed the pillow and whirled toward him, eyes accusing. Tom shrugged and his smirk grew.

That was promptly wiped away when the pillow hit his own face with astounding force and he smashed to the floor. Tom was too surprised to even cry out and he was shocked even further when the gold-eyed boy suddenly burst into laughter.

Tom had no idea how ridiculous he looked, sprawled there on the stone. His wavy black hair was a mess from sleeping, his sleeping robes wrinkled, and his green eyes wide with a slack-jawed expression on his face. How could Aspen not laugh?

Suddenly his face started heating up. Tom's jaw shut with a click and he scowled. He swiftly gathered his clothes and left the stupid boy on the floor, still chuckling.

That red hadn't been from embarrassment, and Tom sorely needed to know why.

¤

Nauseous and woozy. From the moment Tom had thrown the pillow that morning, those two words were all he could use to describe his whole day.

Granted, he had been very surprised at Tom's most uncharacteristic action and had made a great show of exuberance, but it had been too funny not to laugh.

When the other boy left, Harry's stomach returned to him, seemingly quite intent on dancing a jig inside his mouth. He nearly bit through his lip when it's small contents threatened to come up. Nevertheless, his fangs still came away bloody.

Harry frowned to himself. It couldn't be hunger. He'd taken the blood potion two days ago, so he shouldn't need it at least for another three days! Harry shrugged. It couldn't hurt to take it again, and he really couldn't think of anything else that could be causing the condition. With a great effort he made his way to his trunk and opened the lid, shifting through his clothing to find one of the small bottles he carried there. There was about a quarter of the vial left, but that didn't bother him, for the prescribed amount he needed was small.

The brown-red liquid was warm and spicy, and went down in just two gulps. Harry sat back and waited for it to take effect as it usually did. He waited, crouching there for several minutes. Nothing.

Was it his imagination, or did his vision get a bit blurrier just now?

He shook his head in an attempt to clear it, but it was no help. There was no way he'd go to the Healer Kira or Pomphrey either. Letting someone look that closely at him was just asking for his inhumanity to be discovered. Because of waking up so late, he also didn't have time to visit Noir about the matter.

Harry sighed and grumbled. He still had to go to class!

¤

Harry was walking in a constant daze. His Transfiguration teacher had reprimanded him several times for spacing off during class, rapping smartly on his desk as she walked by. He would bet the entire Black estate that she was the person Mcgonagall had based her teaching personality on. If fact, he recalled that particular seventh year getting very starry-eyed when the professor passed by her in the corridor.

But getting back on track, Harry was unable to say anything for fear of being sent to the nurse.

He might have taken notice of how withdrawn Tom was suddenly being. Unfortunately, he wasn't coherent enough to think of anything past the current class.

Harry walked slowly to his room, taking special care not to stumble. No longer was his stomach bucking. No, now it had decided that it didn't like being inside his body anymore and was trying to knaw it's way out of his body. It didn't help that every few seconds one or another of his muscles would spontaneously convulse. He was definitely too far from Noir's classroom to get there without being seen in his sick state.

It was with this in mind that he finally staggered into his room.

Tom was already inside, reading a heavy tome when he came in. He hastily stuffed it in a drawer when he entered, but Harry took no notice. His hand was on the wall with his fingernails digging in, in attempt to support himself. All balance was lost when his stomach gave a mighty heave. Black blood and stomach acid was wretched all over the floor.

Tom was already up and hurriedly running over to him, coming almost too close in an aberrant show of concern.

"What happened? Are you all right?!" He leaned in closer to get a look at Aspen's dead white face. Sweat beaded on his skin in large droplets, and suddenly Harry found his gaze fixed on a point on Tom's neck. A vein pulsed there, flowing with life and sustenance. He could just bend forward a little and-

"No! Get away from me!" Harry shoved Tom out of his line of sight with one hand, the other still burrowed into the wall. He didn't turn to see the hurt expression that flickered across the other's face before it was replaced by blankness. "J-just get Professor DeLune…please…"

Then Aspen fell into a void filled with blood and gloom.

¤

A/n: Hey all! Sorry this chapter is unbetaed, but I really wanted to get it out for my birthday! Spring Equinox, hooray! To everyone, thanks for reviewing.

To those of you bugging me to update, please go and have a nice little look at the A/N at the end of the very first chapter. If anyone's wondering when I'll update, I keep my stats in my profile! (Though I don't guarantee they'll always be updated either!)


	10. Another Riddle

For every Ancient, there are only two real responsibilities that preside over our lives. There are no set rules for the immortals; there has never been a need. We are drifters, never staying in one place for too long, preferring not to interfere with humans and their terrible conflicts. We may make many, or no friends. It all depends on how old the Ancient is and their personality.

To ask us of an Ancient society would earn only incredulous stares. There are so few of the immortal vampires to speak of, our meager population has never made it to double digits. Each member of our race knows the of the others' existence, if not intimately. As each Ancient can only die by siring a child, the number neither expanded nor decreased.

There are two responsibilities that go unspoken. The first is secrecy. Humans, most especially the magic wielding ones, have always feared what they cannot understand. To find out there are beings out there that they could not possibly control would send the world into a panic. I have long since given up being exasperated at their stupidity. Now it is merely taken for granted.

It is up to our own discretion to choose who we tell about ourselves. The Ancients have a firm bond of trust. If we severely misjudge their character, and a human starts spreading rumors about us…well, there is always more blood to be drunk, after all.

Our second duty is the most important; to the entire world, in fact. We must choose right childe. Frivolous matters such as good and evil, or light and dark do not concern us. What we must involve ourselves with is the character of our chosen childe. No, we must not have a power-hungry youngling trying to take over Earth simply because he cannot be killed.

Before hearing this, a being might wonder why we choose to live so long, even being tired of our everlasting existence…

Condamner la corruption des humains…

¤

Noir flew down the corridors on unearthly long legs, making ninety degree angles at every turn. He mutely cursed the human that was trying to follow him under his breath. Let no mistake be made, he was grateful to the boy for getting him so quickly. Still, if not for the damn human trailing him, he would have Flicked straight to Aspen's location. Instead he was forced to run with Riddle behind, giving him even more time to worry about what may be happening to his precious childe.

'It couldn't possibly be what it sounds like!' he denied to himself, 'It shouldn't happen for years yet! There's no way it should be possible…'

Riddle was slowing behind him, his weak human legs unused to such exertion. Noir sped on.

He was going through all the possible calculations in his mind, but only one explanation seemed to fit into the Riddle boy's hurried description, babbled between gasping breaths when he'd run into Noir's office moments ago.

'And what if it is? What happens then?' He grimaced. The Slytherin dorm wall slid aside with no effort on his part. He hadn't even had time to utter the password. Noir shrugged the issue off for later and continued. No one was in the common room to see the blur that was his passage.

The smell of copper and stomach acid hit his perceptive nose with expected force. He swung the door open to see the young vampire's prone body lying on the floor in a pool of black rust.

"At least Riddle had the sense not to touch him." Noir hurried over to Aspen, ignoring the worried hissing from the white snake beside the boy. He observed the boy's pallid face and quickly crouched down, pressing a clawed finger to the sweat covered neck.

Cool. No breath, no heartbeat.

It was as he'd thought.

¤

A/n: So...are you all going to kill me now? I've had supre-major writers block, and this is nearly all I've been able to turn out in the past month. (Damn homework...) Anyway, alerts aren't working **_again_**, so I haven't been able to read that many other stories for inspiration either. :3

**Condamner la corruption des humains**: Was supposed to be- _Damn humans and their corruption._ Turned out as-_humans and their corruption be damned..._Oh well.


	11. Great Risk

_"Remember that great love and great achievements involve great risk."_

**Anonymous**

¤

So clichély named 'The Change', Ancient vampires' coming of age was a short but intense affair.

From the moment of their turning, an Ancient is constantly absorbing power. They unconsciously pull in latent magical energy from their surroundings, using it as a fuel to spur their final ascension to a true immortal. The energy is taken in through the Line Traits, of which each bloodline has uniquely. For one line it is his eyes, that seem to suck in light, and thus energy. A different one has permanently black finger nails, and another even has a small red jewel lodged somewhere near the base of their back.

The uninformed may question this logic. Why would the Change need to happen if vampire brats were already immortal?

Surely you don't think it's that easy?

Close your eyes. Prick. Blip! Tada! You can now live forever!

It isn't nearly so easy. They must gather energy for six to seven years, depending on their power level, to become genuinely immortal. Would a true immortal pass out from lack of oxygen or heartbeat? No, only if critically injured.

…Noir looked down at the boy cradled in his arms before gently placing him on the bed. His body was cold and unresponsive, but Noir knew that could change at any moment.

He'd never heard of an Ancient changing so soon, just a few months after turning. It might be a byproduct of the highly charged energy levels in Hogwarts, or, he supposed, it could be that Aspen was just exceptional. Given the boy's record from his stories, he wasn't sure which conclusion to believe. Perhaps it was both.

Whichever it was, right now the boy required attention.

Just as with all the others, the boy's body had rejected the blood potion in preparation for the Change. While the potion could act as a substitute for the majority of a vampire's life, there were several magical properties found only in human blood that the potion couldn't hope to emulate.

Normally a vampire would be prepared for the occurrence and would have a willing donor nearby at the time, but Noir suspected that Aspen had done no such thing. The boy would have anticipated being out of Hogwarts by the time the Change rolled around. As far as he knew, no one else knew of the child's condition, except…

Riddle.

Aspen had spoken about the boy at great length, assured that his elder wouldn't interfere. Noir now knew of what the Slytherin boy would become, but didn't trouble himself over it. What should happen would happen, and it wasn't his place to change that.

The aforementioned boy finally stumbled into the room, panting in an undignified way as if he'd just run several miles…

Perfect.

Noir motioned hurriedly for the boy to come toward him. Riddle did, but he froze at the sight of the still form lying on the bed. His eyes went wide with shock and a number of other emotions that he unwillingly broadcasted to Noir's senses.

For now he ignored them, reaching with slim fingers toward Aspen's mouth.

"Come here, Mister Riddle. I have something to show you."

¤

Panic. Complete and utter panic had overcome him as he raced down those hallways. Tom normally controlled his emotions to the point of almost utter apathy, but when it came to Aspen, they overcame _him_.

He didn't want him to die. Aspen Noir was…what was he? Tom supposed that he could call him his only true friend, the one person who didn't try to use him as means to achieve his ends. When Aspen had pushed him away, it had _hurt_.

Pearly fangs gleamed for a single moment in the dim light of the dungeon chamber. Panic gave way to shock as one thought prevailed over all others.

"_Vampire_?"

Ferocious eyes turned on him, seeming to suck in his soul with their sinister golden gaze.

Tom's shock quickly turned to numbness as another flashing set of pointed teeth smiled at him.

"Yes, Mister Riddle, vampire. And he needs your…help."

¤

Many things had been explained to Tom, though he didn't know it wasn't nearly the whole truth.

"At this stage he needs nutrition, but in this state he will reject any blood potions." Noir looked at Tom, who was shifting apprehensively by the bed. "He needs a donor now: one with human blood, or he shall remain unresponsive until I am able to find one."

Professor DeLune had been careful and precise in his edited explanations, leaving time enough for Tom to calm down and get his bearings. His brain was working overtime in an effort to figure out exactly why Professor DeLune was telling him this. He'd said that the coming of age had arrived sooner than expected, leaving both the vampires in front of him unprepared. That would also mean that certain requirements had not yet been met.

"You need me for a donor." It wasn't a question.

DeLune smirked, seeming pleased at his speedy conclusion.

"Quite right. You see, I am afraid that neither the Headmaster nor any of the staff here know about the vampires in their midst, making it hard to bring a willing donor here." The smirk dropped, replaced by a serious expression.

"This must be of your own free will. A vampire, no matter what state he is in, has no right to take blood from an unwilling human." DeLune stared right at him as he said this, making his point perfectly clear.

Tom's gaze shifted to Aspen, who was still lying on the bed as if deep in the clutches of death. He shivered. Somehow, he just couldn't stand to see his friend like that. A knot in his stomach became leaden at the very thought. It didn't even occur to Tom what the use of aiding a vampire would be in the future. All that mattered was the here and now.

Aspen seemed to have the uncanny ability to do that to him.

He took a deep breath, forest green eyes focusing on the vampiric professor.

"What…what will you have me do?"

The being with red hair smirked at him. He'd known from the beginning what Tom would choose.

"Give me your hand." He hesitantly extended the requested appendage and DeLune grasped it firmly. Tom gasped at the icy sensation of the vampire's skin on his own, and the man smirked again.

"It is what happens when our hearts don't beat," he said. Tom didn't have anything to say to that as DeLune pulled him to the bed where Aspen lay, and he wondered how exactly this was going to work. For all appearances, the other boy was out cold.

"This will hurt a little," he said as he gently placed the inside of Tom's wrist against the boy's chilling lips. For just a moment, nothing happened. Suddenly another hand clamped onto his own with an iron grip, and Tom suppressed a wince of surprise and pain when sharp teeth pierced his flesh. They didn't sink very far however, and he felt a small amount of pressure as the vampire boy began to suck.

By now DeLune had let go, and Tom no longer felt much, if any, pain. He watched in morbid fascination as Aspen, with eyes still shut, pulled blood from his veins. Death pale skin began to regain the barest hint of color and the boy's grip loosened slightly after a few minutes of Tom not struggling to get away.

A little while later, Tom was beginning to feel dizzy and a little faint. He tried to gently pull away, but the hold his arm constricted and he almost lost his balance.

Professor DeLune saw this and bent over, delicately inserting a finger into Aspen's mouth and pulling his fangs away. As soon as Tom was free Aspen went limp as a rag again, but this time he was breathing.

"You are lucky you didn't touch him before coming to get me," DeLune said when Tom looked at him. "In his unconscious state he would have fed on your blood until you were no more than dust." It took Tom a moment to process that statement, but then his eyes dilated in shock.

That was why Aspen had pushed him away, else he might have killed him. He looked at boy on the bed with yet another new perspective. Apparently, he'd cared more about saving Tom's life than sparing himself the pain of Changing without blood.

DeLune conjured a bandage and wrapped Tom's slightly oozing wrist with practiced hands.

"Your arm will be healed by tomorrow, as those fed on by vampires have no scars. Also, you won't have to worry about Noir attacking you in the middle of the night. He needs no more human blood after the initial feeding," he spoke, assuaging any fears Tom might have had. Then the redhead's face seemed to suddenly turn to stone. "I trust this event will not reach the ears of anyone beyond this room?" Although it was stated as a question, Tom knew it as it was; a thinly veiled threat, to which there was only one answer.

"I will tell no one," he promised, and meant it.

"Good," DeLune smiled, the sight of his fangs sending shivers down the boy's spine. The professor turned to the door, but paused before leaving.

"Oh, and thank you for your help, Mister Riddle. Twenty points to Slytherin."

¤

Tom sat, studying the apparent vampire. So, his…what was it, friend?…was a blood sucker.

Well, that was a surprise.

He didn't really know what to feel at the moment. He'd known that Noir had secrets just as he did, but he hadn't thought it would be nearly so extreme. He sighed and leaned back against the bedpost. His own secret seemed to match well with Aspen's. Both could never be revealed to the public.

In this day and age, vampires were viewed as little more than monsters, creatures of horror tales who drank the blood of unsuspecting wizards and killed them horribly.

As he took in Aspen's sleeping face, the Slytherin had to ask himself how he felt. Did he care that his roommate was evidently a bloodsucking creature of the night?

He frowned as he thought about it, reflecting on the ways that they interacted with each other.

Aspen had been the first person for in as long as he could remember to get him to 'open up' even a little. Somehow he found himself sharing thoughts and matching wits with the other boy, in all friendliness. It had become almost a game at this point to try and pry things out of him, though Aspen only occasionally did so in return.

Somehow within a couple of months, he'd managed to wedge himself a place in Tom's heart, then slowly but surely took it over.

Tom had never experienced such a strange feeling before. This was one thing he had been left innocent in.

He lightly reached over to touch the back of Aspen's hand. It was warm now, and Tom gave in to the insatiable urge to grip it with his own hand.

He was falling asleep now. The blood loss made him tired, and his brain was telling him it was time to slumber. Tom was much to lethargic to get up from the bed, so instead he laid his head down next to Aspen, staring at him.

Sleep was pulling at him, but he still needed to put a name to this feeling. It was no great kick in the teeth when it finally came to him.

"Merlin…this is love…"

Drifting off, he hoped to awake before Aspen did. Tom had a hunch that their position come morning would be mightily embarrassing.

¤

The platinum blonde flounced away, nose stuck in the air.

Harry blinked.

Two minutes ago Abraxas Malfoy had marched into the library like he owned the place. He'd gone right up to where Tom and he were sitting, paying no attention to what they were studying--seventh year DADA books-- but instead demanding to know where Tom had been for the last several hours. He'd completely ignored Aspen as he went off on a rant about Tom missing the prefect's meeting. His screechy voice had greatly irritated Harry's ears, even with the muffling ward Noir taught him.

One minute ago Harry watched in silent awe as Tom quietly made Abraxas look like a complete fool by informing him that the meeting was in fact, tomorrow. The blond had turned a brilliant red and stomped away looking royally pissed off. Harry could definitely see how Draco resembled his grandfather.

He turned to Tom, only to find the other muttering into his book.

"Idiot…thinks he own the world…bet he dies of something stupid, like trying to pull that stick out of his ass…"

Harry snorted in astonished amusement . It was truly amazing how at ease they'd become in each other's presence despite, or perhaps because of, the Halloween incident. Harry hadn't even recalled the day being All Hallows Eve, but then he was pretty out of it. …Everything always seemed to happen on Halloween.

Rather than the whole thing never happening, Harry's status as a vampire seemed to pull them closer together, achieving a balance between them. Now they both knew each other's 'dirty secrets.'

"Twenty galleons that it's Dragon Pox." Tom looked up for a moment, surprised at his sudden interjection.

"You're on," he smiled in amusement. Then he smiled at him. A real smile.

Harry's heart stopped for just a second. It was the first time Tom had ever smiled at him.

It was so…amazing.

Suddenly he realized he was staring, and Tom's curious green eyes stared back. He quickly dropped his gaze.

Harry only looked up again when Madame Pince told them the library was closing. He quickly collected his books as Tom did the same, stuffing them into his bag silently. Just as he started out behind the taller boy, he walked straight into someone.

Harry, being what he was, didn't fall over. The other person wasn't nearly so lucky, and books went all over the floor. Harry apologized cordially on reflex and offered her a hand up. The tall seventh year in Ravenclaw robes looked up with an open mouth like she was also about to say sorry as well, when her face suddenly hardened. He felt more than saw her brown eyes come to rest on his Slytherin badge and fill up full of fear and hate. Harry stepped back in surprise and confusion, wondering why he'd warranted such a reaction.

"Maddie, come on!" her friend called to her from a few bookshelves away. Maddie haphazardly scooped up the fallen tomes and hurried from his presence, her posture tense with suppressed emotion.

Harry pondered over her reaction for a few moments, but finally shrugged it off. He'd done nothing to her and she didn't really affect him anyway.

Aspen hitched his bag over his shoulder and hurried over to where Tom was waiting by the door.

If he'd known exactly what Maddie Ryan was going to do to their lives, he would have killed her right there.

And damn the consequences.

¤

Tom was off bathing in the Prefects' heavily warded bathroom, and Harry lay back on his bed. He stroked a sleeping Letalis and hummed a little tune, running through what happened that that day.

Why had he reacted like that? Tom had only smiled, and granted that he didn't do it often, there was still no reason for him to respond that.

He looked back on his feelings. He'd started out with an understandable wariness around Tom, but…soon he'd become almost too comfortable in his company. They had meaningful conversations, they laughed, sometimes joked, and occasionally studied together when Tom was not attending to his social connections in Slytherin. Harry enjoyed it when the other was around him, or simply sat with him.

He could suddenly recall certain things with startling clarity. How he'd coveted the smallest of brushes, how Harry always found himself waiting for Tom to finish whatever he was working on, how Harry felt both content and nervous when he was together with him.

Harry's eyebrows scrunched up in his effort to identify what these feelings could mean. They just didn't make any- he froze as a sudden notion came to mind. His breath hitched and abruptly everything was crashing down around him.

'This…this can't be love. Can it?' Even as his own mind voiced it, he knew it was true. The undercurrent of these feelings was too strong, too powerful for it to be a simple crush.

But he could never act on it. There was no way he was going to chance changing time and destroying everything…no matter how much he might want to.

Harry sighed and closed his eyes. He was going to be hard pressed to act normally around Tom now.

¤

Noir leaned forward suddenly in his chair, wearing an eager look Harry'd never seen on the other's face before.

He didn't know what would cause such a reaction. He'd merely mentioned the song--more of a poem really-- that he liked to hum when he was bored, then all of a sudden Noir had gone stiff in his chair before leaning so close that Harry could smell his breath, a look of wonder in his eyes.

"You mean, _the_ Lost Poem of the Ancients?" he gasped. Harry frowned in bewilderment and shook his head.

"Why would it be lost?_ You_ were the one who taught it to me."

"Aspen, the last Ancient who knew the poem passed on before I was reborn; without sharing it."

Harry sat in a moment of shocked contemplation before his eyes widened to match his mentor's.

"Then that would mean that I was meant to come here, to teach it to you!" Noir nodded and sat back.

"Now we may assuage any fears you might have about changing the timeline. You can't change it, because it was meant to be."

To Harry, this was somewhat of a relief. Now he didn't have to worry about his budding feelings for Tom Riddle. They would obviously never be returned.

He couldn't be quite glad at the thought, but still felt content as he sat back to teach his teacher.

¤

A/n: Here comes the fast paced part I apologized for earlier. Also, if certain parts don't make sense right now, they're probably just clearing things up for later. (But feel free to tell me about them anyway!)

It seems that my betas are all on vacation, or something similar! Or maybe it's just me being impatient and not giving them enough time. XP Anyway, beta-ed version up when I get it.

Please review!


	12. Incapable

People who are sensible about love are incapable of it.

**Douglas Yates**

¤

Hogwarts smiled on her heirs as they went about their daily toil. Things were coming along well.

The boys had resolved their disputes and shared the majority of their secrets with each other. They were on the very brink of being happy, and together.

Even knowing how things would conclude, it made her very sad to realize how soon all of this would end.

¤

**(1)** A loud bang nearby made Harry jerk from where he was measuring boomslang skin. He looked over to see Harrison Potter standing beside a semi-melted cauldron, brown sludge covering his face and dripping grossly down his robes.

Seeing that Slughorn had things under control, Harry smirked a little and turned back to his half-done Polyjuice Potion. It seemed that his grandfather was just as horrible in potions as he'd been just a few months before.

Aspen jumped in surprise when Tom prodded him with an elbow.

"Pass the lacewing flies."

One of Tom's hands was occupied with stirring, so he was unable to get them himself. Harry grabbed at the bag of insects and set it down by Tom's cutting board.

Tom gave him a small nod of thanks and he smiled back. Then Harry turned back to his cauldron, trying to remember the Half-Blood Prince's advice on the proper way to shred boomslang skin. He couldn't remember if it was lengthwise or…

He never noticed Tom's slightly lingering gaze, nor the faint flush that graced his cheeks, which you could only see if observing closely.

He didn't notice a wound closing on his finger either. The pain was nonexistent and it had come when he jerked, tearing some skin on a sliver. Soon it was completely healed, leaving no trace except for a few spots of blood on the table that would never come out.

Decades later, at that very same table, a Hufflepuff first year by the name of Xiamora Hooch nicked herself on the very same splinter.

"Ouch!" she cried as if in grievous pain, causing several nearby 'Puffs to stare at her in bewilderment. She dropped her head in sheepish apology and stuck her pained finger in her mouth.

Over the course of the next year, Xiamora gradually noticed how her hazel eyes were lightening to an almost metallic gold. When Madame Pomphrey assured that there wasn't anything wrong with her, she wrote it off as one of those 'cool magic things' and went on with her life. Perhaps she could see in the dark better than most and spot things at a great distance, but she never took especial note of it. It just helped her along with her Quidditch teaching and refereeing career.

As it happened, the potion ingredient she'd been working with that day was Bobo Fuzz, a normally harmless (and funny sounding) component often used by first years. But as it also happened, Bobo Fuzz was a particularly strong catalyst for Blood Potions. With little bits of it stuck to her hands, it'd been able to enliven the barest trace of blood from the table.

This was how she gained a mutation of the extraordinary eyes that could suck in strength and send it though her system. This caused her to be especially hyper and chirpy, annoying the hell out of her fellow teachers.

Xiamora continued obliviously on.

¤

Tom sighed under his breath as the sound of a gently scratching quill met his ears. Tonight was Saturday, and once again he'd turned down offers of other Slytherins' company in favor of studying with Aspen. He twirled a lock of hair slowly between his fingers while sitting on his bed.

They both knew that they really didn't need this. They could easily finish all homework without needing much time to do so. Tom personally thought of these moments as small pieces of time where they could be alone. It had surprised Tom when Aspen told him that the noise and smell of most humans bothered him, especially since having even more attuned senses from the Change. When Tom had asked him curiously what he smelled like, Aspen took in a breath.

"You smell…I don't know, like some kind of musk I suppose." Then he'd quirked his head at him. "It's not bad though." His voice sounded slightly strange, but Tom couldn't quite detect why.

Afterwards their conversation strayed to other topics. Letalis occasionally joined in, adding a slightly odd spice to their discussions. They had been interesting, to say the least.

Tom was distracted from his thoughts and nearly yanked the curl from his head when the bed suddenly bounced. He didn't hide his small wince well enough because Aspen smirked at him in delight. Tom wanted to reach out and tug a lock of his long hair in revenge, but refrained. Barely.

"I'm all done with homework," he gestured to the neat stack of papers on the other bed. "So, what now?" He stretched out on his stomach, seemingly perfectly at home on Tom's bed.

Tom half-scowled and pulled his parchment from underneath Aspen's arm.

"You're lucky I finished those a while ago, or I'd be hexing you for smearing my ink," he said in mock disgust. Really, Tom was surprised that he wasn't even mildly annoyed. Aspen was close to him, after all.

"Not luck, I knew," Aspen smirked back at him. Letalis had disappeared off somewhere, but he never bothered to ask, as half the time even Aspen didn't know.

¤

Harry watched as Tom carefully ordered his parchments and stacked them neatly together. He tugged slightly at the collar of the muggle turtleneck he insisted on wearing. His body could get cold easily, and he just didn't like wearing cloaks or heating charms all the time.

At last, Tom had his homework arranged to his satisfaction and Aspen sighed in relief.

"Finally! You're always so neat, it takes ages just to put away your homework!"

Tom shot him a dirty look and stuck his tongue out at him. He presented such a comical picture that Harry burst out laughing.

His sides shook with mirth and he couldn't help the next words that tumbled out of his mouth.

"Either pull that tongue back in your head or put it to good use!"

It took a moment to comprehend what he's actually said. Tom froze where he sat, tongue still poking between his teeth slightly.

Neither had realized until this moment just how intricately they had had been dancing around each other. Each had dropped so many subtle hints that the only surprising thing about this situation was that they were surprised at all.

Aspen forced himself to look directly up at Tom. Forest eyes met his squarely, though a few locks of curly hair fell over one of them. Before he knew what he was doing, one of his hands was brushing them away. He quickly retracted it, but Tom caught it on its way back. His grip was firm, and Aspen could smell and feel the thin sheen of sweat that had suddenly appeared on both of their skins.

Tom was still staring at him intensely, and Harry could feel his cheeks burning under the scrutiny. Tom was searching for something in him, he knew. He was trying to delve into his mind without Legillimency.

Suddenly he leaned forward and gently touched his lips to Aspen's.

Whatever it was, he seemed to have found it.

The kiss was awkward and sloppy because of his position, and Tom pulled away before he could get over his shock enough to respond.

Tom's cheeks were reddening now too and he looked away, seeming almost as if he wanted to bolt from the spot. Harry wouldn't allow that.

Before he could do anything, Aspen grabbed his hand and sat up, bringing himself to eye level with the other boy. The world was spinning around them and his heart was pounding a rapid rhythm. He could hear Tom's doing the same.

"Do you want this?" was all Tom asked. It was such a simple question, laden with so much feeling.

Harry's answer was simple. His hands slid up and circled around his neck, pulling the other closer. Their flushed faces were close together, so nearly touching that all he did was cock his head to the side and press his mouth to Tom's. His eyes slid shut as Tom started to reciprocate. The air seemed to heat up all around them like a furnace, and suddenly Tom was kissing him harder as fingers wandered up his shirt.

It could be said that things were going too fast, but Harry didn't think of it that way. He thought of it more as though they could understand each other so well, no beating about the bush was needed. Once the barrier of the first kiss was broken, the floodgates of emotion swelled and gushed in torrents.

There was none of the hurried impatience of normal teenagers in this instance, only passion, intensity and exploration. A hand slowly undid the buckle of his pants, exposing more heated skin to open air.

Harry smiled as Tom deepened the kiss further, one of his hands running up Tom's exposed back.

This was the way love was meant to feel.

Plus, the expression on Tom's face when Aspen suddenly pinned him to the bed was absolutely priceless.

¤

Tom couldn't puzzle it out.

His controlling and dominant nature usually stood firm in the face of anything trying to subjugate him, but Aspen's--his _lover's--_smallest touch had washed away all of those feelings, replacing them with fire and pleasure beyond any stretch of imagination.

The gentle touches had shown that Aspen was just as inexperienced as he, when it came to the matter at hand. Tom just couldn't understand how the smaller male, though a vampire, could make him feel this way; so ready to let go of everything just for his kiss.

When Tom awoke this morning, his back _ached_.

He gazed down at the resting head with long black and red hair spread all across his chest, almost completely covering the awful scars. The fingers that traced them last night hadn't made them seem quite so terrible. In fact, they almost seemed to worship them with a reverence that made him feel godly.

He couldn't resist the urge to feel the thick strands, running his fingers delicately through them. The pale man shifted and sighed a little before settling back. Aspen's arm wrapped a little tighter around his roughened back, bringing last night's conversation to the forefront of Tom's mind.

In the afterglow, Tom had been the first one to speak. There were no proclamations of love passed between them. It was unneeded and it suited neither of their personalities to be so maudlin.

He instead whispered to Aspen of his treatment at the orphanage, spilling another part of him to the person who already knew too much.

How they'd singled him out for all the strange things that happened around him, how the staff at the orphanage had regularly beat him as a child, trying to 'purge the devil from him.'

He'd murmured of the very last time he'd ever received a thrashing, where the Head had pulled a penknife on him at age seven, carving the horrible word 'to remind him what he was' into his skin. That was the first--but not the last-- time he'd ever used magic to hurt someone, and never again had any of the staff or children approached him.

Tom didn't even try to keep the relish out of his voice at the power he'd gained over the pitiful muggles.

The scars however, remained and grew bigger as he did. Aspen listened, quiet and intent throughout the whole story. Tom met his eyes several times during the account, and never once had they been judging.

Afterward Aspen had done the only thing he could to comfort, and he told Tom his own tale.

Aspen had told him about his family. He lived with his Uncle, Aunt and Cousin. Never once had his aunt or uncle hit him, though the cousin, Dudley had often used him as a punching bag. His uncle only yelled, his face turning a myriad of red colors, but seldom touched him because he was afraid of being contaminated by the 'freak.'

His aunt though…her shrill voice had plagued his waking moments, Aspen said. Whilst he was a child, she'd denied him food when he was unable to get his chores finished on time, which was more often than not because of his working on an empty stomach.

She'd stopped with the horrible punishment eventually, but the damage had been done. Aspen would always remain shorter than average because of his malnutrition. It had also done irreparable damage to his psyche.

They'd sent him to Hogwarts in fear for their lives. Because of _him_, Aspen, not Lord Grindelwald.

They feared the boy would kill them in cold blood, much as Tom Riddle Jr. had killed his father's family and the Mudblood girl in the bathroom last year…

Tom hugged Aspen, ignoring the twinges in his back. None of that mattered anymore. They had each other now, and no one could stop them from doing as they wished.

¤

(1) Really has no point. I thought it was an interesting view on how Xiamora might have gotten her eye color (as mentioned in the books). Plus, I've never seen this idea anywhere before.

Yes, yes, I have once again shown what a majorly impatient person I am and have put this up unbetaed. I hate the romance scene and it _will_ be changed sooner or later. Pleeease review!


	13. Broken Heart

I want to thank my betas (who, it seems once again are dead), and my reviewers for all the advice they've given and the help they've been.

(1) Directly from Wikipedia

(2) From crystal-cure. com

"Usually when people are sad, they don't do anything. They just cry over their condition. But when they get angry, they bring about a change."

**Malcolm X Speaks**

¤

The morning after was nearly as wonderful as the night before. They both finally got around to rising after some banging on the door from their fellow Slytherins. Luckily, the double wards from both Tom and Aspen prevented them from even attempting to come in.

Aspen hauled himself from his comfy position and laughed as Tom sat up, moaning about the pain in his back.

Tom glared at him. "Don't laugh. Next time it'll be you in this position." he said.

Harry worked to suppress another bout of laughter and instead grinned at his implication. There were no regrets between them.

Still grinning, Harry stood and walked over to his trunk. Opening it with a tap of his wand, he dug around for fresh clothing.

In his search he encountered his Invisibility Cloak, the Marauders' Map, and his shrunken Firebolt. He hadn't had any need to use the items so far this year and so they'd remained buried. Underneath them was a small paper package that held the shards of a mirror, one of his last gifts from Sirius. Harry grimaced slightly at the memories it brought before pulling the clothes from his trunk and locking it up with a small click.

"Are you going to the Quidditch game today? It's Slytherin against Gryffindor," he asked.

As expected, Tom gave a noncommittal shrug. Despite the fierce competition between Houses, Tom didn't care much for the sport and he found it a waste of time, to be better spent researching. Harry, himself hadn't tried out because of the rather large chance he might make it into history books for some inane reason and because he might attract undue attention. That was the exact _opposite_ of what he wanted.

They tugged on their robes without further words. The silence between them wasn't awkward, but it wasn't very comfortable either…

Just as Harry was about to head out for a late breakfast, Tom's hand clasped gently onto his own.

"Aspen…" It was a mere whisper.

Tom leaned in and Harry breathed the scent of musk, which he now remembered from the Amortentia potion.

His hungry kiss said everything their few words didn't.

'I love you.'

¤

Before they knew it, Christmas was upon them with its sickening red and green holiday cheer. The first years-- especially the Slytherins and Gryffindors--were acting so hyper and rowdy that Harry had undeniable urge to start hanging them up as Christmas decorations. _Very_ high up. Telling Tom about this only gained a small chuckle and a suggestion on which spell to use.

Though their squealing hurt his ears, temporary satisfaction was his.

Harry sighed. Along with the holidays came another dilemma: Tom's present. He had no idea what to get him! Hogsmeade visits wouldn't be made until the day of Christmas itself and he couldn't chance Flicking away, so shopping was out. Also, nothing in any of the ordering catalogues he looked at seemed right. Books seemed a rather bland thing to get, and he didn't have any other clear notions.

Harry paced around the room a little bit, worrying the end of his braid. His mornings in the Room of Requirement were proving fruitful. His body was becoming much more fit with his frequent workouts and his grasp on dueling had never been better. However, the boundary of his control in wandless magic was nearly nil. The only times he'd been able to call forth anything impressive so far were when his emotions were running high. Sure, his frustration occasionally spurred fantastic random explosions, but that was nothing without control.

He could barely summon a teacup wandlessly, to say nothing of conjuring one.

Now his irritation was added to by the fact that he had no idea what to do for Tom's gift.

Harry finally plopped down at a table where stacks of books awaited him. They'd been kindly provided by Hogwarts in an effort to give him ideas. He cast a glance over books on knitting, potions, clothing, making teddy bears, and a variety of other subjects. None of them give the impression that they would make very good presents for a critical Slytherin lover.

Then his eyes lit on a book for crafting jewelry.

Harry frowned. Had he ever seen Tom wear any jewelry?

Not as far as he could recall. Still, it seemed interesting and was worth a look. He pulled it toward him and began flipping through.

"Wedding necklace…protection amulet…wedding band…emotion bracelet…promise ring…"

He stopped. The promise ring looked appealing.

"_A promise ring is given to a romantic partner to signify a promise to be committed in a monogamous relationship, maybe in which a young couple pledge their love for one another. The gift of the ring indicates that serious courting is under-way. It can be given as a symbol that a couple does not feel that it is an appropriate time to consider engagement or marriage but are serious about each other and their relationship." (1)_

Harry cocked an eyebrow. A promise ring seemed like a good idea to him, but were he and Tom that serious?

For a moment he considered, then he shrugged. He and Tom never really talked about what was between them. It couldn't hurt anything, could it?

He looked for the instructions on how to make it, and it seemed nothing to difficult if he used his wand. The book recommended using silver for the band of the ring and an appropriate gemstone, depending on what meaning he wanted to convey.

He flipped to the an index of stones in the back before he finally decided on one type.

"_It is said that giving a moonstone to your lover will insure that you always have a passion for each other. This stone also brings good fortune, promotes inspiration and healing, and is used for protection at land and sea. The moonstone is associated with the moon and was the stone of the goddess Diana. The most powerful time to use a moonstone is in a full moon. It has been worn as an amulet to bring good emotions to the wearer, while protecting those of a sensitive nature. It can reunite lovers who have quarreled." (2)_

It would be a perfect fit, though Harry hoped he'd never have to see the last property at work. All he'd have to do now was order the silver and a moonstone. He grinned happily.

¤

Noir stared out the window at the grey sky, watching Old Man Winter brew up another batch of snow. White powder already covered the ground with several feet, and he seemed determined to make it deeper.

The vampire could sense another storm coming, one that would strike quickly as lightning.

Turning, he made his way back to his darkened office. On his desk sat a shiny apple which he plucked from its place. Noir peeled away the skin in little bits, eating as he went. Bits of apple got stuck between his nails and teeth, but he paid them no mind. He simply enjoyed the taste of sweet juice running over his tongue.

Words from The Poem hung at the back of his mind like one of the sky's dark clouds. The circumstances of his learning it continued to gnaw at him.

"What is meant to happen will happen."

That was the very essence of Time itself.

Yet Aspen was here, creating a paradox with his very presence, to say nothing of his knowledge of the future. Noir had already come to the conclusion that the boy's existence in this time was gradually shifting things from what was.

He would have to go back soon.

As much as he couldn't stand losing his childe, Noir wouldn't be there to stop him.

A stripped apple core sailed into the trash bin.

¤

Christmas morning was quiet in the Slytherin dorms. The majority of children had gone home to celebrate Christmas within their own Pureblood families.

Tom awoke slowly. From what he could tell it was late morning, though he couldn't be certain without checking. None of his Slytherin year mates would coming to wake him today. They'd all left on the Hogwarts Express four days ago. Now it was just him and Aspen, along with two others in second year.

A sudden jab in his back made Tom hiss and turn over. Aspen was shifting in his sleep beside him, snuggling closer when heat started to escape through the blanket. Tom felt a small smile creep at the corners of his mouth.

They'd shared a bed since the very first night, when Aspen had simply invited himself under the sheets and only smirked when Tom raised an inquiring eyebrow. More often than not, they ended up in _his _bed and more often than not, both went to sleep with smiles on their faces. It'd taken Tom a while to get used to. His facial muscles simply weren't accustomed to working that way.

He smirked slightly as a little trail of drool dribbled down the vampire's chin. Occasionally Aspen would destroy any sense of poise he had by doing something so utterly….human, like tripping over his feet or drooling, that Tom would feel contented. Aspen wasn't perfect. Far from it, with his small tantrums over homework and his dislike of potions despite being good at them. Tom felt gratified that he was the only one to see all of that.

A light hiss from above made Tom look up. Letalis hung from one of the rails that suspended the curtains from his bed.

-You're up! Finally!-

Tom leaned back against his pillow as the white snake descended by wrapping around the bedpost.

-What is it?-

-I've been waiting for you to awaken ssso you can open your presentsss! I know Aspen put hard work into yoursss.- Her head bobbed up and down in time with her excited words and Tom wondered vaguely if she might have gotten into his stash of sugared Ice Mice.

Wait, a present from Aspen?

Tom sat up as quickly as he could without disturbing the other. At the foot of his bed sat a small pile of presents. He recognized two as being from Abraxas and Orion immediately, along with the obligatory gifts from Liam and Nex. However, there was one tiny package in blue wrapping paper that caught his attention. Even from here, Tom could make out Aspen's jagged handwriting on the label.

Over on Aspen's bed, Tom's present lay wrapped up in a thick paper. It contained a tiny glass globe similar to a Remembrall, except it didn't remind you of anything. Instead, a little glittering galaxy swirled inside, entrancing any who stared at it. Tom knew wasn't the most romantic of presents, but he couldn't think of anything else that wasn't overly sappy and he'd noticed that Aspen seemed to have a strange fascination with glittery things.

He hadn't a clue what could be in such a tiny box. Tom aimed to find out. Letalis slithered closer to him as he tugged off the wrapping paper to reveal a black box. He was just starting to get an idea of what it might be when he pulled the lid away.

Silver shone at him beneath the dim lighting in the room and a small clear stone sat there, melded into the metal. It was a ring, a simple one at that.

Tom eyebrow scrunched up as he calculated what it meant. What could Aspen be trying to imply?

-A promissse ring,- Letalis spoke.

-What?-

-Assspen made it and sssaid it was called a 'promissse ring.' Doesss that mean anything ssspecial?- she asked.

Tom leaned back against the headboard with his eyes fixed on the small band that sat in his palm. A promise ring was a pledge of love, something taken very seriously in the wizarding world.

The ring signified something he never would have asked from Aspen.

He looked down at the sleeping figure beside him. Somehow, without his realizing it, the young man had become the center of his world. He _loved_ him, like no one else before. A moments deliberation had him slipping the gift on to his trembling ring finger.

Letalis was asleep at the foot of the bed when Tom slipped back beneath the covers. His left hand gently took Aspen's and laced their fingers together. The promise ring glinted from it's place on his hand.

The other presents could wait. For now, he would enjoy Aspen's embrace.

¤

The day was calm and clear. The clouds seemed to have let up for a while in favor of the holiday. Inside, students and teachers were having a celebratory feast, all looking forward to the Hogsmeade trip that afternoon.

Hogwarts' foundation shivered and her attention turned away. She couldn't bear to watch.

¤

Tom pulled his heavy cloak tighter about him. The warming charm on it only worked if there was no air disturbing it. The day was bright with only a few clouds creeping through the sky and the snow was crisp beneath his feet.

Hogsmeade was a dazzling display, frosted in white and decorated with all manner of magical Christmas bangles. Groups of carolers strolled through the streets and the scent of lavish foods floated tantalizingly from the Three Broomsticks where other Hogwarts students milled. There were many baubles and trinkets in the windows of the shops, calling attention with their bright flashes and loud noises.

Their attraction did nothing to distract Tom. Although he glanced at the multi-colored dancing displays, his attention remained firmly on the young man walking beside him. Aspen was in a delighted mood, he could tell.

Upon waking and his discovery of Tom already wearing the ring, Aspen ensured that neither of them left the bed for quite a while. He smirked in memory.

The other was as hyper as he'd ever seen him, bouncing subtly on his heels whenever he saw another dazzling window display. They'd already paid visits to the bookshop and Murk's Apothecary for potion ingredients. Aspen mentioned he was running low on specific ingredients and Tom needed a few items himself. A few silver and gold coins was all it took to have access to a slightly more…illicit selection.

Aspen indicated the next store he wanted to go to.

"Honeydukes?" Tom raised both eyebrows, but followed Aspen into the crowded shop. He'd never been much for sweets.

The other nodded and spoke, "I've been wanting to try Blood Pops for a while and I really wanted to get a couple of Chocolate Frogs."

"You haven't had Blood Pops before?" he was surprised. Aspen nodded.

"Once, back when I was human. I didn't like them very much then," he turned away, but Tom stood still, a little overwhelmed. He'd never been told how or when Aspen became a vampire. It made him realize how little he really knew of the other. Tom sighed and followed him. He had all the time in the world to ask.

¤

An hour later found them sitting in a packed Three Broomsticks. Both wizards chafed at being in such close proximity to so many people, but it was warm and dry inside, so they put up with it.

Their purchases sat in feather light bags beside there table where they could keep a close eye on them. Aspen sat sucking on a Blood Pop, a close-eyed expression of relish on his face. Tom nursed a Butterbeer as his eyes darted all around the pub. His paranoia seemed to be running haywire today, but in the end he attributed it to the many people surrounding them. At some point in time Aspen's hand had grasped his and held it under the table. Tom smiled softly in his direction.

Then there came a tingling feeling, working it's way from his feet all the way to the top of his head. It made him shiver.

Something was terribly wrong.

A scream sounded outside.

¤

Harry felt the tingling just before he felt Tom stiffen beneath his touch. Someone had set up anti-apparation wards, and he could only think up one reason for that.

By the time a feminine scream came from outside, he was already on his feet. Other people in the pub started to panic and Harry had to shove his way through the crowd that hastened to escape.

Tom was right behind him, hustling people out of his way without remorse. Both of them recognized the lurid purple colored robes of Grindelwald's followers, though it took Harry longer, as he'd never seen them before.

Hooded purple forms moved swiftly through the ally, cutting through crowds with explosive volleys of spellwork. So far there hadn't been fatalities as far as he could tell, but it was only a matter of time.

Tom's gaze darted from the figures to Aspen. This could be his chance to gain Grindelwald's attention, but he somehow _knew_ that wouldn't approve. He would have to wait. Another explosion and more screaming from the panicked crowd distracted him from his thoughts and Tom looked around.

His breath hitched when he suddenly realized that Aspen was nowhere in sight. He almost shouted, but suppressed it before it could get out. 'Where is he?!' his mind screamed at him. Tom backed up to a nearby alleyway so he could avoid being caught in any of the crossfire.

Unfortunately, the spell that Maddie Ryan felled him with was entirely intentional.

¤

Damn his Gryffindor tendencies! Harry just couldn't leave the whole scene and let the Aurors tend to it, oh no!

He'd spotted two first years being surrounded by the purple robed wizards. One of the hooded men grinned and raised his wand to curse them into oblivion. Harry's powerful stunner met the man's back squarely and he fell to the ground with a dull thud. The man's companions turned on him, their shadowed faces turned to masks of rage.

"Run!" he screamed at the little Ravenclaw and Slytherin, just as the first barrage of spells hit his shield. They fled and he turned back to the hit-wizards. Harry snapped his yew wand up and sighed. He really hadn't wanted to get involved.

"Nox Flamma! Stupefy! Stupefy!…" Black balls of flame hurtled from his wand tip and forced his enemies to dodge. Harry dodged out of the way of several particularly nasty spells, retaliating with stunners. He didn't want to garner attention by killing them. In mere minutes, Grindelwald's forces were down for the count.

"How pathetic."

Adrenaline coursed through his veins and he trembled with the rush of it. The children were gone, and most of the civilians had left the ruined village with his distraction to aid them. Harry searched for Tom among the buildings. Surely he would be fine, powerful as he was…

"-avenged! Die, _filth_!" A screech cut through the air.

Harry whipped around to see a brown haired female standing over a prone figure in Slytherin robes. Tom was frozen in place on the ground, his wand lying several feet away.

"No."

Harry felt his heart stop and fail to start again.

'No, please, not this!'

"_Avada Kedavra!_"

To Harry everything seemed to suddenly be in slow motion, even his own body. He was frozen as the sickly light left the tip of Ryan's wand.

Tom lay unmoving on the barren earth. Still locked under the curse, he watched with terrified, angry eyes as Death sped toward him. Harry would be too slow, too far away, to reach him in time.

Aspen didn't think, Flicking never occurred to him. All he knew was that he had to save Tom.

Running as fast as possible, he did the only deed he could manage.

Tom watched, immobile, unblinking, as his love took the curse as a shield with his own body; then disintegrated before his eyes.

In that moment, what was left of Tom Riddle's broken heart died.

* * *

**Fin**

* * *

Mwahahaha! Forget Voldemort, _I'm_ the ultimate evil! But if you all hate this ending as badly as I think you will, I suppose no one will want a sequel, ne? 


	14. It's Not a Freakin' Update

Author's note:

1+1 equals 2

To anyone who just doesn't get it because they didn't read carefully enough: Harry + immortal vampiric tendencies equals: He's not freakin' dead! He's IMMORTAL! He **can't die!!**

No, no, he's only _mostly_ dead. (I will write a oneshot for those who know this reference. XD)

There is a sequel. It has been posted. Check, I command thee!

In the sequel, Harry/Aspen will be going back to his original time, where he will decide what to do with himself. A lot of the loose ends from NEB will come together and start to make sense. I won't give away much, but Un Coeur Gris will have a lot more plot than NEB does. In my opinion, at least.

A sequel was always planned, but collecting the threats to update/write a sequel was amusing to both myself and EmpyrealFantasy, with whom I shared them.

Top Twenty Threats (in order received):

1. Lock me in basment till I finish.

2. Keep me in a jar.

3. Chain me to computer.

4. Kill me with a three year old (two of these, oddly)

5. Wring my neck, (this one was said by at least three people)

6. Finish/sequel OR ELSE (general)

7. String up by the thumnails and flog

8. No matter how evil I am, I'm nothing compared to what you'd do if I didn't write a sequel.

9. (the worst yet) Sick Voldemort on me and make me watch him have mad sex with Bella...

I'm going to puke. And that was from Barranca, of all people. She's usually so reasonable!

10. Haunt me forever.

11. "I will channel my Inner Moaning Myrtle and follow you around for the rest of your life if you don't gimme sequel soon!!! XD"-- A direct quote from EmpyrealFantasy

12. I'm definitely going to be removing this story from any of my alerts, favorites, etc.--Quote from Spartan Eragon

13. Hunt me down and lock me in a room with non-stop Barney music.

14. There WILL be a sequel or the world will be destroyed.

15. Threatening glares...(various)

16. Send a score of feet biting fire-ants against me.

17. Beat me up with an old rusty spork.

18. Kick me.

19. Make Aspen haunt me.

20. Boil me in oil (from my brother)

Please don't review on this, go to Un Coeur Gris!


End file.
